A Different Road II: Influence of a Diary
by black-ink8922
Summary: AU. Its Harry’s second year of being a Slytherin, and the Chamber of Secrets has been opened. By the end of the year someone will die. Since Harry is a Slytherin, will he turn to the Dark Arts? Will his choices lead him down a different road?
1. Professor Parish

A/N: Year 2 has now begun! Welcome back all those who have read "A Different Road." **If you have not read the first one, you will ****_not_** **understand this story. Read the first story before reading this one.**

Keep in mind that I consider this story a Dark fic, as well as an Alternative one. If that doesn't bother you, read on.

Anyway, enjoy the first chapter in the second installment! New and interesting things will happen, and yes, someone will die before the year is over. You'll just have to wait and see…

**Disclaimer: All characters, except Professor Oliver Parish, belong to J.K. Rowling's. She owns this wonderful world of Harry Potter.**

"You can never get enough of what you don't need to make you happy."

-Eric Hoffer

**1**

**Professor Parish**

Harry has been at the Dursley's for two weeks now, and has so far gotten no letters from anyone in the magical world. He felt completely closed off from everyone. He would just walk around outside in the Dursley's garden for hours, it seemed, waiting for someone to contact him.

During the day, he has taken to sitting on the one swing that hadn't been broken by Dudley's fat arse when he was younger. The air was a bit hot, but as Harry lightly swung, a small breeze would rustle through his messy hair and too big muggle clothes. Clothes that he hated, but had to wear since Uncle Vernon wouldn't allow him to wear his cloak ("Someone might see!" exclaimed Aunt Petunia.).

But as Harry sat there on the swing, Hedwig flew up to Harry with a letter, and landed on his lap. "Hiya, Hedwig! I was wondering where you went," said Harry, more cheerfully, now that a letter had finally arrived for him. "Come." Harry put out of left arm, and Hedwig jumped on.

Harry walked though the back door into the house. He made sure there was no one in the kitchen and sat down at the dinner table, putting Hedwig on the back of his chair after taking off the letter. Harry opened the letter to see small, tightly-spaced handwriting.

_Harry,_

_I asked my father, and he said that you could stay at my house. We'll come to get you soon, most likely before the week is up. For now,_

_Draco_

Harry looked away from the letter, happy he would soon be away from this wretched place. But then he realized Draco had no idea where the Dursley's lived. How would they find him? Harry realized he didn't have any other parchment or a quill, but looking around the kitchen, he found a simple ballpoint pen. Harry turned over the parchment and began to write.

_Draco,_

_I'm so glad that you and your father are going to come get me. Just so you know where to find me, the Dursley's address is 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging in Surrey. I'm not sure how your going to get me, but the Dursley's don't like wizards, so when you do, be careful what your father and you do and how you get here. But the sooner I'm away from them, the better. See you soon,_

_Harry_

Once Harry had finished the letter, he attached it to Hedwig's leg, and she flew off out the partly open back door. No sooner did Hedwig fly off, did Uncle Vernon—

"Boy! Where are you?" called Uncle Vernon, as he walked heavily down the stairs and then into the kitchen. Once he saw Harry sitting at the table, with a pen in his hand, he stopped. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," said Harry. Uncle Vernon eyed him suspiciously.

"Why do you have a pen in your hand?" asked Uncle Vernon. Harry had completely forgot he was holding it, and dropped it to the table.

"Oh. Well, I was just holding it," said Harry, quickly. Uncle Vernon walked further into the kitchen and took a seat across from Harry. He unfolded _The Times_ to read, completely ignoring Harry. Harry started looking around the room, trying to find something to occupy his time.

Harry didn't know it, but Uncle Vernon was looking at him over the top of the newspaper. Ever since he had returned from Hogwarts, Harry realized that Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley had tried to stay far way from him as possible, as if he was contagious with some horrible disease.

Harry had come back to the Dursley's thinking that he would have to stay in the cupboard under the stairs like he had before he left. But to his surprise (to say the least), he had his own room; one of the rooms that Dudley had used to store his mass amounts of unused and forgotten toys.

When Harry had gotten back for the first time, Uncle Vernon told him to go upstairs to the first room on the right. He saw a bed, wardrobe, and table; it even had a window to look out of. Harry was overjoyed to finally have a room of his own, but it didn't change the fact that he was still with the Dursley's.

Uncle Vernon reminded him that he wanted to see no signs of magic… _at all_. So Harry had done nothing to do with magic for two whole weeks. But of course he couldn't, since Uncle Vernon took his trunk and locked it in the cupboard under the stairs.

Harry, realizing that Uncle Vernon was watching him, got up from the table. "Where are you going, boy?" asked Uncle Vernon.

"To my room," said Harry, as he began to walk out of the very clean kitchen. But he stopped, remembering something. "By the way, my friend Draco Malfoy from Hog—from school is going to come sometime during the week to get me. He didn't tell me exactly when, though."

"Fine," said Uncle Vernon. Harry probably assumed he didn't hear his minor slipup just then. Uncle Vernon paused, looking down at the paper once more. Harry moved to leave, but then Uncle Vernon cleared his throat, so he stopped. "Exactly _how_ will they be coming to get you? I don't want anything to be seen that could be associated with _your_ kind."

"I don't know. He didn't tell me," said Harry simply.

"Well, tell him no funny business," said Uncle Vernon, turning, once again, back to his paper. As Harry was walking up the stairs, he heard Uncle Vernon call to him saying, "I want you back down here by six for dinner, boy."

Harry walked into his room and closed the door, thankful to get away from Uncle Vernon. When Harry had come back two weeks ago from Hogwarts, he had found, in the corner of the room, an old baseball. He would throw it up and down to keep himself occupied and to keep up his reflexes for Quidditch.

Harry picked up the old ball from his bedside table, sat on the side of his bed, and began to throw it up and down. He did this for about five minutes, when the sudden sound of Dudley slamming his door and shouting, caused him to lose control of the ball. It fell to the floor with a thud and rolled under his bed.

With a sigh, Harry got up and then laid down on his stomach to reach under his bed for the ball. When Harry had grabbed the ball, he noticed a small gap around one of the floorboards. He picked it up, and saw that there was room under the board for a couple items. _Well, this could be useful._

Harry re-covered the floorboard, and moved his body to get from under the bed. When he picked up his head, he noticed that Hedwig was sitting on his bed, as well as another owl Harry didn't recognize. Harry wiped off the dust from his shirt and took the letter from Hedwig first.

_Harry,_

_I'll be sure to tell my father that we have to be careful what we do. They're only Muggles, so I'm sure you don't have to worry too much. My father can handle it. My father told me that we'll be coming to get you tomorrow at eight pm. Be ready,_

_Draco_

Harry looked over what Draco had written to him. 'My father can handle it.' _His father can handle it? How?_ Harry put the letter down and looked at the other owl. He was small and brown and seemed a bit out of breath. Carefully, Harry took the letter from the small creature. Harry immediately recognized the unorganized handwriting.

_Harry,_

_My mum and dad said they would be thrilled to have you come over. I know that you don't like staying with the Dursley's, so just tell me when you want to be picked up and my dad and I will come to get you. Hope to see you soon,_

_Ron_

He put the letter on his bed and then exhaled loudly.

Since Draco and his father are coming to get Harry tomorrow night, he'll have to tell Ron that he can go to his home later in the summer. _Should I tell him that I'm going to Draco's house?_ Harry decided against it, and wrote back saying that the Dursley's wouldn't let him leave the house yet because he had to do chores and such like that. And that he would write back when he could go to Ron's home later in the summer.

Harry gave some water to Hedwig and Ron's owl and sent the latter on his way with the letter attached to his leg. As it was slowly starting to near six, Harry put away the letters, and went down for dinner.

Later, while they were having dinner, Uncle Vernon told Harry that they would all be going to London tomorrow because Dudley wanted an extra present. He didn't like the idea of having to spend the entire day with the Dursley's, but Harry knew there was nothing he could do.

----------------------------

The air was humid, and unluckily for them, there was no breeze. The Dursley's and Harry had arrived in London and parked on one of the streets. Harry got out of the car and saw Uncle Vernon already putting some change into the meter. He looked at the road sign: _Vauxhall Rd._

"I want to go in there!" shouted Dudley, pointing to a small store. Harry saw that it was a variety store.

"Dudley-kin's, you don't want to go in there. There's nothing in there you would want," said Aunt Petunia, as she held her small purse tightly.

Dudley turned to face Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. "I want… to go… in there."

After checking there were no cars, Harry watched as Dudley waddled his way across the street to the store with Aunt Petunia following awkwardly behind him. The sight made him chuckle, but then Uncle Vernon grabbed him hard by the shoulder.

"No funny business, or you'll be in the car with no air conditioning. Got it?" asked Uncle Vernon. Harry nodded.

A chime jingled as they opened the door to the variety store. Harry walked in, feeling the cold air of the store and was relieved to get away from the heat. He saw that Dudley was over in one of the aisles with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, and so he began to walk around.

They had been in the store for a while. Dudley couldn't decide on which one item he wanted, so he had gotten many. Of course, Harry was the one to carry the bags. He had looked down a couple aisles, but always ran into Dudley.

Since he had seen Dudley had seen on the left side of the store looking through the stuff devouringly, he had decided to quickly go to the right side. In the very last aisle, Harry saw there was a man but he was on the other end. Harry pushed the handles of the bags further up on his forearms. The items on the shelves served no interest to Harry, since they were things like dolls, batteries, and wigs. On the wall, there was even more useless stuff that Harry knew he would never need during his lifetime.

Harry was closer to the man, who was looking at an object. As there was nothing of interest in this aisle, he decided to go looking in the next one. Harry turned to the side, so none of the bags would hit the man and carefully went by him.

"Odd objects, yeah?" asked the man. Harry stopped, turning to see what the man was holding. It was a figurine of a witch flying on a broom as she wore a black pointed hat. Before Harry could answer, the man continued, "Do you think there could be real witches and wizards out there… Harry Potter?"

As he said Harry's name, the man turned to look at him. Harry meanwhile was looking at the man with utter shock. "How do you know my name?"

The man put the figurine of the witch back onto the shelf next to the figure of a black raven and turned to face Harry. "Oliver Parish," said the man casually. He quickly looked behind him before adding in a whisper, "I'll be your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." He held out his hand.

Harry shook his hand, the shock now gone. "Nice to meet you, Professor." He looked at the man he was shaking hands with: average height, somewhat thin, short light brown hair, and light blue eyes. He looked rather young; perhaps a couple years shy of thirty.

"You're going to be in your second year, is that correct?" asked Professor Parish, as they released hands.

"Yes," said Harry with a nod.

"Good, good," said Professor Parish. "If you don't mind me asking, why do you have so many bags?"

"They're my cousin Dudley's. He's…the rather large kid on the other side of the store," said Harry. He jabbed his thumb in the direction of Dudley.

"Hmm… anything in those bags for you?"

"No, Professor. It's all for my cousin."

Professor Parish picked up the little figurine of the witch again. "Likes a lot of things, doesn't he?" It was more of a rhetorical question, but Harry nodded anyway. "Come. Let's see if we can find something for you."

"Professor, you don't have to." But he didn't hear Harry.

Professor Parish started walking to the cash register, which was in the front of the store. Harry followed. Some of the bags hit his knees as he walked.

"Professor, why are you in a muggle store if you're a wizard?" asked Harry, not bothering to lower his voice.

"I'm Muggle-born. Sometimes I find it easier to be around muggles than wizards," said Professor Parish, turning to Harry. He got to the counter and took out his wallet.

"This all, sir?" asked the woman behind the counter politely.

"No." Harry saw Professor Parish grab a journal, which was next to the cash register. "This too."

After he bought the items, Professor Parish turned to Harry, holding the journal to him. "Something for you. Its not fair that you're cousin gets everything," said Professor Parish nicely and with some sympathy. Harry took the journal. "Write your thoughts in it." Professor Parish smiled at him cheerfully.

Harry smiled back at him. "Thank you, Professor."

"Well, I have to go. See you at school then."

"Bye." Harry heard the chime on the door sound as it was opened and closed. Suddenly, behind him he heard loud footsteps. "Boy!"

While his back was still turned to Uncle Vernon, he quickly stuffed the journal into the waist of his trousers and then covered it with his large shirt. He turned to face Uncle Vernon who was closer. "Where have you been?" asked Uncle Vernon. Harry noticed there was a bag in Uncle Vernon's plump fingers.

"Looking around," said Harry innocently, as he stepped away from the counter and towards his uncle.

"We're not getting anything for _you_, so don't bother looking. Here," said Uncle Vernon, as he thrust forward the hand that was holding the bag. Reluctantly, Harry took it and put it onto his arm. He could feel the handles of the bags digging into his forearms, but tried to ignore it.

After a half hour of staring out the large window watching as cars passed by, Harry finally heard Dudley say he wanted to leave.

When they got to the car, Uncle Vernon took the bags from Harry and put them into the trunk as he gave Harry a look. Harry looked at his forearms, which had red lines all over them from the bag handles. He rubbed his arms with his hands.

"Get in," said Uncle Vernon forcibly. As they turned off Vauxhall Road, it began to rain heavily and they decided they should head home.

**A/N:** How did you like the first chapter? Already you got to meet a new character. Sorry but Lockhart won't be the professor in any year. The next chapter goes straight to the time when Draco comes to the Dursley house. Just so you know. Thanks for reading!


	2. Second Home

"Do you wish people to think well of you? Don't speak well of yourself."

-Blaise Pascal

**2**

**Second Home**

Harry rushed downstairs, and swung the door open to see Draco standing there. "Draco!" he exclaimed happily.

"Hiya, Harry," said Draco. He looked at Harry with a smile, and then Harry noticed Draco's gaze move to inside the house. Harry turned and noticed Dudley had peaked his abnormally large head out of the living room to look at them, but he quickly moved away.

Harry turned back to Draco with a laugh, but then noticed something very wrong behind Draco. There was a huge boulder in the street. A blond man in a long black cloak, Harry guessed to be Draco's father, was standing near it.

"Bloody hell! Why is there a huge boulder in the road?!" asked Harry, as he moved out of the doorway to get a good look at the massive rock that was in front of the house.

"Calm down. My father put a spell on it to make it look like one of those things that move on the street," said Draco calmly.

"A car?" said Harry, calming a little at Draco's words.

"Umm…if that's what they are called, then yes. To a Muggle it will look like one of those _things_," said Draco, not wanting to say the word car because it was a muggle word.

"That's clever. The Dursley's will like that," said Harry.

"My father thought so," said Draco. He glanced behind him to see his father moving toward them. "Here he comes."

Harry saw the man move away from the street and closer to the house. He immediately recognized him from the memories in the Room of Buried Secrets. Harry saw long, white blond hair and noticed he carried a cane, but it seemed more for appearance than for support.

"Ahh, Harry Potter. It's a pleasure to meet you," said Lucius Malfoy, as he extended a hand toward Harry. The man's eyes darted quickly to his scar.

Harry looked more closely at the man standing before him. He saw that Lucius Malfoy had that look of happiness that most had when meeting him for the first time, but Harry noticed that he had an odd smile upon his face that didn't exactly match with his expression. Harry shook his hand nonetheless.

"It's nice to meet you too, Mr. Malfoy," said Harry, as they hook hands. They're eyes locked for a second, while they shook each other's hand and Harry saw the same gray eyes that Draco had. Harry eventually told them that they could come in and moved out of the way to allow for Draco and his father to come in.

After closing the door, Harry noticed that Draco and Mr. Malfoy's faces had a look of disgust on their face. Harry knew it was because they didn't like the thought of being in a muggle house, but he ignored it. Harry walked in front of them and guided them to the sitting room to meet Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley.

Uncle Vernon was standing, where as the other two were sitting on the couch. Uncle Vernon moved forward to meet Mr. Malfoy, though reluctantly. Dudley, who looked afraid they might put a spell on him, stayed on the couch next to Aunt Petunia. Aunt Petunia, Harry saw, had another one of her fake smiles resting upon her face as she held tightly onto Dudley's chubby arm.

"Name's Vernon Dursley. This is my wife, Petunia, and my son, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon, as he motioned behind him. They shook hands, after which Mr. Malfoy said, "Lucius Malfoy. This is my son, Draco."

"Great suit and amazing car. I noticed it outside the window," said Uncle Vernon, as he first looked over Mr. Malfoy and then motioned towards the window. Harry knew that Uncle Vernon was pleased because he had probably been thinking that they would come dressed oddly and with brooms in their hands.

"Petunia, if you could get Mr. Malfoy some tea," said Uncle Vernon, before saying to Mr. Malfoy, "Take a seat." He motioned for Lucius Malfoy to take a seat in an armchair.

"Thank you," said Mr. Malfoy, as he sat down.

Harry and Draco were still standing at the entrance of the living room. "Suit? Your father's not wearing a suit," Harry whispered curiously.

"My father put a spell on our cloaks to seem like whatever muggle clothes that were most appealing to them," said Draco, also in a whisper. Harry nodded.

Lucius Malfoy turned back to him and Draco. "Draco, get Harry things ready before we leave."

"Yes, father," said Draco.

At hearing Draco's response to his father, Uncle Vernon, now sitting across from Mr. Malfoy, said, "Well, wouldn't it be nice if all children responded like that." He gave Harry a nasty look. Aunt Petunia came in soon after his remark, carrying a tray of tea. "Oh, Petunia, could you unlock Harry's trunk from the cupboard under the stairs?"

When she had laid down the tray, Aunt Petunia went to the hall to get the keys, so Harry and Draco followed her. She unlocked the door to the cupboard and then walked away to go back to the sitting room. Harry pulled at the trunk, but it seemed to be stuck. "Draco, a little bit of help would be nice, you know," said Harry. Harry turned to see that Draco, looking at the family pictures that littered the walls.

"Oh. Right," said Draco, as he grabbed the trunk, and they heaved together until it was free. Harry shut the door to the cupboard, and left the trunk in the hall near the front door.

"Come on. I have to get Hedwig," said Harry. "I'll show you my _amazing_ room." He said the latter in a sarcastic tone.

"Amazing? You should see my room," said Draco arrogantly. They were now walking up the stairs. When they went inside Harry's bedroom, Harry went to get Hedwig and her cage. Draco laughed to himself when he saw Harry's room.

"I did say amazing sarcastically. Or did you not notice?" asked Harry.

"No, no. I noticed. I just couldn't help myself," said Draco.

Harry handed him Hedwig's cage. "Hold this for a second." Harry went to get the letters that Draco and Ron had sent him, and stuffed them in his pocket.

"Well, for Muggles, your Uncle and Aunt do have some taste," said Draco, as he looked around Harry's window.

"If you're going to be charming, Draco, do it to them, not me," said Harry. "I could care less about what the Dursley's think is tasteful."

"When you get all your things we can finally leave. My father has a Portkey outside. The big boulder is the Portkey," said Draco, as he held the cage. After a couple minutes he said, "Come on, Harry."

Draco was clearly getting impatient. "I'm done, I'm done," replied Harry.

They walked back downstairs. Harry laid the cage, which held Hedwig, on top of his trunk. Harry and Draco walked back into the sitting room to find Uncle Vernon and Lucius Malfoy engulfed in conversation. Harry found that it was mostly about Uncle Vernon and his job at the company, which he knew Mr. Malfoy didn't care about.

"Draco, Harry. Back I see. Well, I'm afraid, Dursley, we'll have to be going," said Mr. Malfoy, as he stood up. He once again shook Uncle Vernon's hand and made toward the entrance of the sitting room near Draco.

"Harry, over here for a moment," called Uncle Vernon. When Harry was standing in front of him, Uncle Vernon continued, but now so that only Harry could hear. "Are you sure they are…your kind?"

"Yes, I'm sure," said Harry, as he nodded.

"Well, even if they are, they're not what I would have expected. Lucius Malfoy and his son can come here next summer to pick you up," said Uncle Vernon. But he seemed to realize who he was talking to, and straightened up more. "Can you stay at that school during the Christmas holiday?" When Harry nodded, Uncle Vernon let him leave to retrieve his trunk and cage.

When they had finally made it out the door of the Dursley's it was fifteen minutes till nine. "Draco, carry Harry's cage for him," said Mr. Malfoy.

"Yes, father." As Harry went further towards the rock, he turned to see that the Dursley's were looking out their window. Dudley's porky face was pressed against the glass.

"Is it going to look like we're getting into the car and driving away? Because the Dursley's are looking out the window," Harry asked.

"Don't worry, Harry. It'll look like whatever they want it to look like," said Draco.

"Touch the rock," said Mr. Malfoy as he reached a hand to it. His other arm was bent as he looked down at his silver watch. One of Harry's hands touched the rough rock while the other gripped onto the handle of his trunk firmly. "3…2…1…"

The world pulled at Harry's body, screwing up his vision as he felt his feet leave solid ground. Inside his head, he was screaming. Harry closed his eyes to get away from the dizzy feeling. It helped, but not a lot. Eventually, Harry felt the ground press against the bottom of his feet. He opened his eyes and let go of the rock.

With a flick, Mr. Malfoy had made the large boulder disappear. Harry turned to see a large, black gate before them. It towered over Harry. There were two black, elegant M's at the top of the gate, which he knew stood for Malfoy Manor. On either side of the large gate were stonewalls for further protection. 

Harry heard a clicking sound and then saw Mr. Malfoy take a couple steps back before the gate creaked open noisily.

From the gate and in between tall trees was a narrow pathway, which they followed. After sometime going through the trees, the pathway curved to the right, and then they came to stairs leading up to the tremendous, superior manor. When he got to the middle of the stairs, he looked around. There was a large, dark lake in front of the manor extending from below the stairs he stood on until the stonewall. He stared at it for a few moments, but then continued up.

The walls of the magnificent, Victorian house were a charcoal gray, and some vines crawled up the sides elegantly. There were a couple taller parts of the large house, like a tower on the left and a small level on the right. Two oriel windows could be seen facing the three of them, which looked to be on the second floor. The windows couldn't be seen into, but they weren't frosted either, so it must have been some sort of protection spell.

Harry walked up, holding onto his trunk as it hit each step with a bump. Mr. Malfoy was walking in front of him while Draco was behind. They soon got to the large, highly polished black front door. A black gargoyle sat on either side of the door, looking mischievous.

The door opened slowly and they all walked in. "Welcome to Malfoy Manor, sir," said the butler, who had opened the door. The man took Harry's trunk from him. He was wearing a black cloak with a gray waistcoat beneath.

"Thanks," said Harry. He opened his mouth when he saw the room before him. "Bloody hell!"

It was a massive room with gray marble floors and stonewalls, and a silver-leaf ceiling that was extremely high. There was a green rug with designs on it in the center of the room. A circular glass table with candles stood on the rug. Torches were lighting the room around them. Before him were marble stairs that split into two as they went to the second level. To the left was an opening to another room, and to the right there were frosted doors. But Harry just stood there, looking around in awe.

"This is the Entrance Hall," said Draco proudly.

"Dobby!" called Mr. Malfoy. Harry saw an awkward, little creature with large ears and eyes come in from the room on the left. "Take Harry's things up to his room. Go now!"

"Yes, Master Malfoy, sir," said Dobby nervously. He grabbed the trunk that was larger than him and began to go up the stairs with difficulty.

"Draco, show Harry around. Then go upstairs," said Mr. Malfoy before he turned to the right to leave the room.

With a nod, Draco said, "Yes, father." He motioned for Harry and they went to the room on the left.

"What _is_ Dobby?" Harry asked as he followed.

"He's a house elf. He's one of our servants," said Draco casually. "Been in our family for years."

Harry looked at the room they had just walked into. It was a beautiful sitting room. There were chocolate brown couches and armchairs set around the room. All the legs of the chairs were claws clutching a wooden ball, which he would soon find were on all of the chairs in Malfoy Manor. There was a large window with deep red curtains that made the light have a reddish hue. A large fireplace lay dormant on the wall to the left of Harry since it was summer. There was a tall Grandfather clock in the corner of the room that chimed twice as it turned nine pm.

"This is the Great Room," said Draco from behind him. Harry turned to see that he was sitting comfortably in one of the armchairs. "I usually spend a lot of time in here. Very comfortable." He got up and went to the frosted, glass doors opposite Harry, and opened them. There was another plainer door to the right of the frosted ones. "Come on, Harry."

It led to a room with one long, wooden table that was highly polished. There were two large windows along the left wall. A shimmering chandelier fell from the ceiling above the table, creating little specks of color around the room. There was a long rug below the long table that sat ten people: four on each side with two head seats.

"Dining Room," said Draco. "Room straight ahead is the Kitchen, but I hardly go in there. The door on the right leads to a hallway, which has a couple rooms branching off. There's the Ballroom that leads to the Garden, the Drawing Room, Collection Room, and the Parlor. You can get to the Parlor from the Entrance Hall also; that was the room past the frosted doors. I'm not allowed in the Parlor, so that means you're not. At the end of the hall, are the back stairs, which lead to the middle of the hall a flight up. Upstairs are the two main bedrooms, as well as three guestrooms. There's a Study, which we're also not allowed to go into. It's my father's room. There's the Library. It has its own level, which branches off the second and there's small tower, but it serves no real purpose. I can show you the rest of the Manor another time. Let's go upstairs."

"Merlin, you have a lot of rooms," said Harry as he followed Draco out of the Dining Room, into the Great Room, and then through the Entrance Hall to go upstairs. The stairs split in two and Draco went to the right. Harry eventually found himself before a polished wooden door.

The roomhad green wallpaper, which was in stripes of army and forest green. There was one large oriel window on the left wall, which was half covered by a curtain of dark green. In the oriel window was a tall blue cushion that allowed for someone to sit and relax there. A torch was on either side of the window and there was another above the desk and above Draco's bed. A four-poster bed covered in dark green sheets was against the left wall also. Opposite the door was a two-person couch and two armchairs with a small round table.

On the right wall was a dresser and a desk, a wooden chair pushed under it. Upon the desk were some parchment, a bottle of ink, and two quills – one green, one brown. There were a couple books piled on top of each other on the right corner. On the left side of the desk near the bottle of ink was a picture frame. It was a picture of Draco, who looked about five or six, and Mrs. Malfoy, waving and smiling at the camera.

Closer to the door on the right was a bookcase. There were books on it in different places, but there were also objects, like a Wizard's Chess set, a blue airplane that probably flew on magic, a small fake skull, and a bunch of other random things. Leaning against the side of the bookcase was a racing broom.

Draco went past his bed. There was a light brown, wooden door on the right, which he opened. He motioned for Harry, who followed. The next room didn't look as lived in as the others. There was a regular twin bed in front of them against the opposite wall; a dresser was to the right. Beyond was a gray, white, and beige striped couch, and one other chair of the same design. There was a simple little side table next to the bed.

The walls were a light gray, and had some sort of gold design printed on them, which only shown in the right light. There were a couple torches around the room, but it was still dim since there were no windows. All the way on the right was another door, which Harry knew led to the hallway. His trunk was to the right of the door.

After yawning, Draco said, "This is your room."

Harry sat down on the bed, relaxed. "Tired?"

"My father took me to Knockturn Alley today," said Draco, leaning against the wall.

"You're not the only one who's tired. The Dursley's made me clean, it seems, almost the whole house."

"But that's servants work!" exclaimed Draco. "Only Muggles and Mudbloods should do work like that. You're a Slytherin, Harry, you shouldn't do such work."

"Yeah, well, if you lived with the Dursley's they'd make you do 'servants work' too."

"I would refuse. They can't treat you like dirt," said Draco.

"They have since I was one years old, and will continue to," said Harry. "That, I'm sure of." He took in air as he yawned silently. His eyes filled with water from the yawn. He lay down on the bed as he sighed. "A place where I can rest, knowing that in the morning I won't have to see the Dursley's. This is wonderful."

"That's good you're happy," said Draco tired. "I'm going to get some sleep. See you in the morning." Harry heard him walk out and close the door that connected the two rooms.

As he continued to lay on the bed, Harry felt better knowing that he wouldn't have to see the Dursley's until next year. He was now with his friend in an amazing mansion, where he could stay until school started up again. But then Harry sat up, realizing that Ron had asked him to come over to his house, as well. He would have to write a letter to Ron later, but he wasn't sure he wanted to leave Malfoy Mansion.

It was so welcoming to him, since it wasn't like any place he had ever been to before. Without actually thinking it, Harry subconsciously knew that Malfoy Manor would now be regarded as his second home, his first being Hogwarts.

Though he kept yawning, Harry didn't feel like falling asleep just yet. He went over to his trunk and opened it, searching for something in particular. When he found it, he brought it over to his bed. Harry sat cross-legged on top of his blanket, his back leaning against the wall, facing the door that led to Draco's room. Harry looked down at the object in his lap.

**A/N:** Two things: 1. You are quite possibly wondering how Lucius Malfoy, who is a Death Eater, was able to get into the Dursley's home if Dumbledore's spell was upon the home. Well, Mr. Malfoy had no intention of hurting Harry when he walked into the house. That's my reason. /p p 2. I hope you approve of my rendition of Malfoy Manor. Just because dark wizards live there, doesn't necessarily mean it has to be dark, dim, and gloomy. But I haven't shown you the other rooms yet, so I can still change them. If you would prefer them to be a bit "darker" then the ones you have already read, then I will. Just say so. Thanks!


	3. Old Photographs

"The silence of the people is a warning for the king."

-French Proverb

**3**

**Old Photographs**

Harry looked down at the object in his lap: the photo album that Hagrid had given him the last day of school. He flipped it open with care.

The first picture was of his parents, holding him as a baby. It looked like it was summer from the grassy background and clear, blue sky behind them. His parents were waving and smiling cheerfully. His mother was holding his small wrist gently, making him wave to the camera, but he had no idea what was going on. His mother's red hair was blowing softly and his father's hair getting even more unruly from the wind.

Harry couldn't help but smile at seeing the picture. "Thanks, Hagrid," Harry whispered to himself.

He turned the page to see a picture of four young men, their arms around each others shoulders as they smiled and laughed. The men looked to be about nineteen. The background seemed to be in the fall since there were leaves of different colors on the ground.

The man on the far left was a lot shorter than the others. He had short light brown hair, his cheeks were a bit red, and he was chubby around the middle. As he smiled, Harry saw that his two front teeth seemed to protrude slightly more than the others.

The next was, unmistakably, his father, who had his right arm around the chubby bloke, his left arm around another man with long, black hair. James was smiling widely as his hair ruffled in the wind. He was peering at the camera through his round glasses. Harry could make out his father mouthing the words, "I love you, Lily."

The third man from the left had darker and longer hair than the others. He was smiling, but it seemed like a half smirk. His long hair was being blown around in the wind, but he still managed to look suave. The sleeves of his robes were rolled up casually. Every now and then, in the picture, he would give an energetic laugh.

The last man, who had his arm around the dark-haired man's shoulder, was smiling pleasantly. His short, light brown hair was being moved slightly by the wind. He let out a cheerful laugh occasionally, and would sometimes turn to the others next to him and smile even wider.

Harry took the picture out of the four little tabs that allowed it to stay in it's place, to see if it said the other men's names on the back. There was only a date: _September 1978_. He put the picture back and moved onto the next.

The next picture was from a wedding, and Harry guessed it was the wedding of his mother and father. And he could see from the picture that he was correct.

His mother was in a beautiful white wedding dress, which had sparkles on the front in a flowery design. Her crimson hair was in a beautiful bun with some strands falling down around her face. His father was in a formal black cloak with a red flower in the front pocket. He was holding her from behind, so that his arms wrapped around her in a gentle embrace. They were both smiling happily. Far off behind them, the man from the other picture with the long, dark hair was waving enthusiastically to the camera.

Harry laughed aloud when he saw this. A couple seconds later, he heard the connecting door to Draco's room open. His blond friend poked his head out.

"What's so funny?" said Draco, looking slightly tired.

"I'm just looking at some family pictures," said Harry, looking back down at his parents wedding picture.

"You've got family pictures?" asked Draco, opening the door fully and walking inside. "My parents are alive and I don't even have any family pictures." There was a hint of sadness and deprivation, but it was quickly gone.

"You've got that picture of your mum and you."

"Yeah, I guess. But you've got a whole album."

"I only got it this year from Hagrid."

"That big oaf gave it to you?" asked Draco, who sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, but I'm glad he did. I've never seen these pictures before."

Harry moved the album, so that Draco could see the pictures, too. He turned the page to the next picture. Harry would have wanted to see the pictures by himself, but he didn't mind Draco's presence.

It was another wedding picture; this time of his dad and the man with the long, dark hair. They were standing next to each other, looking like brothers. The man next to his father gave the impression of being the best man. They were both smiling widely and sometimes his father would wave to the camera.

"Are these your parent's wedding pictures?" asked Draco, looking the picture over with interest.

"Mmhmm," said Harry, still looking at the picture with a small smile on his face.

Draco moved his face toward the picture and narrowed his eyes. "The best man looks familiar. Do you know his name?"

"No. Where have you seen him?" Harry asked curiously.

"I don't remember," said Draco, moving back.

Harry flipped the page again, and this time it was a whole bunch of people from the wedding. There were over thirty people, cramming into the picture. Most of them Harry had never seen before. But he recognized a couple people.

He recognized a younger Dumbledore, who was wearing a pale blue cloak and a lighthearted smile. He still wore his half-moon glasses, which was glistening in the sun. A couple people away were McGonagall: her hair was still in a bun, but she didn't have her usual look of strictness. She instead was bearing a warm smile as she wore a brilliant purple cloak.

Hagrid, too, was in the picture. He was on the far right, smiling excitedly, like he usually does when very happy. He was wearing his usual brown coat, but Harry could make out a red tie beneath it. His hair also wasn't as unruly. The three other men from the other pictures were scattered around the picture, as well.

Draco leaned in to look at the photograph again, and a sour look appeared on his face. "Dumbledore and Hagrid were at your parents wedding? Ugh."

Even though there were more photographs to look at, Harry slammed the book shut, loudly, which made Draco jump. "I'm going to sleep. Good night," he irritably.

Draco got up and walked to the door. Draco stopped and turned. "By the way, to extinguish the torches, all you have to do is wave at them. Night." Harry put the large album on his bedside table along with his glasses. He waved slowly at the torch on the opposite wall and the flame went out. He did this to the others in the room before calling it a night.

----------------------------------

Something was poking him rudely in the face. Harry opened his eyes, but couldn't see a thing in the darkness. He waved his hand into the air as he lay down and one of the torches lit up. It was still incredibly dim in the room. Harry sat up to see the creature, Dobby, standing near his bed, looking around nervously. His watch said that it was close to one am.

"Dobby must tell Harry Potter something. Dobby will have to punish himself for visiting you, sir," said the creature. "Harry Potter must go back to his family now. Harry Potter must be safe." Harry grabbed his glasses and saw that Dobby was wearing an old pillowcase, covered in stains.

"Sit down, Dobby," said Harry casually.

"Sit – sit down? Harry Potter wants Dobby to…sit down?" asked Dobby. His eyes had widened in shock and he began to bang his head against the edge of the bed.

Shocked, Harry pulled off the covers and tried to get the unusual creature to stop. "Stop, Dobby. Draco might hear you," Harry said just above a whisper. "Just…just sit down on floor…I…command you?" He figured that Dobby would only listen to a direct order.

"Harry Potter is not Dobby's master. But Harry Potter is a good person and Dobby will gladly do so," said Dobby, as he sat down on the floor in front of Harry's bed. "Dobby heard that Harry Potter met the Dark Lord yet again this year. Harry Potter is very brave to face him."

"Brave? No. I'm not brave," said Harry, shaking his head slightly.

"But Harry Potter must be brave to face such a man as the Dark Lord."

"Dobby, what is it you came here to tell me?" asked Harry, looking at the big-eared creature. Dobby got up and walked closer to Harry.

Dobby whispered, "Harry Potter must not go to Hogwarts this year." After saying this, he grabbed the large album and began to bang the book against his head. Harry took it from him and placed it on his bed away from Dobby.

"Why? Why shouldn't I go to school?" Harry asked. "What is it you know?"

Dobby looked around and began to rub his hands, nervously. "Hogwarts is not safe, Harry Potter."

"What's wrong with Hogwarts? Is something bad going to happen, Dobby?"

"Dobby heard the Chamber of Secrets will be reopened in Hogwarts this year." But right after saying this, he walked to the torch on the wall and jumped up trying to burn his hands, but he was, thankfully, too short.

"The Chamber of Secrets? What is that? Who did you hear it from?" asked Harry loudly in quick succession.

Dobby shushed him after he came back from trying to burn himself. He looked toward the door that connected the two rooms. "Harry Potter must go back to his family in the morning. Harry Potter must leave. Dobby must be promised by Harry Potter that he will go home tomorrow and not go to Hogwarts," said Dobby.

"No. Dobby, I must go to Hogwarts. Hogwarts is my home," said Harry. There was slight pause and then he continued, "What horrible things are going to happen? Dobby, what do you know?"

"Dobby knows that brave Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts this year."

Ignoring Dobby, Harry said, "Does this involve Voldemort?"

"Don't speak his name," said Dobby as he cringed.

"Does it involve the Dark Lord? Does he have something to do with all this?" Harry saw that Dobby was going to grab the album again, so he snatched it away.

"No, Harry Potter, sir," said Dobby.

"Just tell me what the Chamber of Secrets is. Who opened it before?"

"Dobby will only tell Harry Potter after he promises that he will not go back to Hogwarts this year," said Dobby. He was more mischievous now, but still nervous.

"No, I can't."

"Harry Potter must promise Dobby."

"No!" Harry said loudly to the creature before him.

Harry turned when he heard the door connecting the two rooms, open suddenly. When he heard a "pop," Harry looked to see that Dobby was gone. Draco came in, rubbing his eyes. "Who were you talking to?"

"Err…no one. I must've been talking in my sleep," said Harry, as he pulled the covers back over him.

"You sleep with your glasses on? Odd, don't you think?" asked Draco, knowing something was wrong.

"I forgot to take them off," said Harry believably. He yawned widely and Draco did the same.

Without another word, Draco left the room, closing the door behind him. Harry placed the album back on the table with his glasses, and finally went to sleep for the night.

-----------------------------

The next morning arrived. Harry had no idea whether the weather outside was bright or gray because he had no windows. But he didn't really care. He used to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs, so he was used to it. As he checked his watch, Harry realized that he had slept in late. He dressed in a casual black cloak and went downstairs for breakfast, thinking that Draco would already be up.

As Harry entered the Dining Room, morning's white light streaming into the room carefully; he saw that the only person present was Mr. Malfoy. The blond haired man was sitting at the head of the table, facing Harry, as he read the _Daily Prophet_. Mr. Malfoy looked up when Harry entered and told him to take a seat before calling for Dobby.

Harry sat in one of the side seats. Mr. Malfoy put the paper down and drank from the goblet in front of him.

"Did you sleep comfortably, Harry?" asked Mr. Malfoy, as he looked at him with his gray eyes.

Harry nodded as he said, "Yes, sir."

"Good," said the man. There was a slight pause, but Harry knew Mr. Malfoy was going to say more. He could feel it. "I'm sure that Draco has told you about the rooms you not allowed to enter, and I hope that you can respect those rules. I happen to know that you have a certain disregard for the rules at Hogwarts." He smirked at saying this and Harry did so, too.

"I dare say, I do, sir," said Harry still smirking, but then it vanished. "But I will respect your rules."

Mr. Malfoy nodded at Harry words. Dobby then came in carrying a silver tray with a steaming plate on it. He walked over to the left of Harry and placed the tray down. He picked up the plate and placed it before Harry. Dobby turned away, but not before giving Harry a dark look.

Harry poured himself a drink and began to eat. After some time, Draco and Mrs. Malfoy came down and ate also. Mrs. Malfoy had light blonde hair, almost as long as her husband, and light blue eyes. She said hello to Harry before sitting at the other head of the table. Harry and Draco laughed as they ate, telling jokes to each other. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy paid no attention to them.

-------------------------------

For the next couple days, Harry had a great time at Malfoy Manor. Draco and he would spend a lot of time outside, practicing Quidditch. Draco told Harry that if a spot were open for a Chaser, he would try out for it. After practicing with him for the past couple of days, Harry saw that Draco was an excellent Quidditch player, but not as good as himself.

They dropped down onto the garden's green grass, breathing heavily after some practice. Harry and Draco laid their brooms beside them. Harry was lying on the grass, looking up at the blue sky. He heard Draco sit up.

"Dobby!" he called, turning back toward the manor. "Dobby!"

When there was no response, Draco got up. "You want something to drink?"

"So kind of you to ask," said Harry as he sat up. He knew that Draco was only getting him a drink because he was getting one for himself. Draco gave him a look. "Sure."

Harry looked around the beautiful garden. Further back was a pond with golden fish, and a small bridge that went over the pond. Large trees were everywhere, but there was a patch of grass before all that, where Harry and Draco could practice. Near the pond on the right was a large weeping willow tree. Some of its branches fell into the water, creating ripples.

There was a hissing near Harry as he sat there. He looked around and saw a small, green and red snake come out from behind a tall patch of grass. It went over to Harry and he had a half a mind to get up and go into the manor, but for some reason he wasn't afraid.

"_Hello, little snake_," Harry said to it, as it crept ever closer.

"_Hellooo_," hissed the snake. Harry's eyes widened, not expecting it to talk back. But then he remembered the time with Dudley in the zoo, which had been about a year ago.

"_Do you live in this garden?_" asked Harry, leaning down to look at the snake. The snake picked up his head and nodded. Harry put his hand on the ground and the small snake slithered onto it.

He could feel the smoothness of its rubbery scales on his skin. The snake looked up at Harry with glassy yellow eyes. It crawled around Harry's arm, and he laughed as it did so. The way the snake went around his arm felt somewhat ticklish.

As he laughed, Draco came out holding two glasses of pumpkin juice. Harry turned, and Draco stopped in his tracks. "Why are you holding a snake?" he asked. He continued to walk forward. Draco placed the glasses of juice on the flat ground and sat down, but he was further than before.

"The snake came up to me," said Harry, moving his arm as it slithered around it. Draco took a sip of his juice, still eyeing the snake on Harry's arm. Harry knew that Draco was watching him, so he put the snake down.

Before it crawled away, it said, "_Sssee you_." Harry nodded to the snake, and then it disappeared into the grass. Harry grabbed the other glass; his mouth parched, and gulped it down quickly. "Want to play some more Quidditch?"

Draco nodded as he drank his pumpkin juice. When he had finished the whole glass, he threw it down, grabbed his broom, and flew away into the air as if in one fluid motion. Harry did the same, but even quicker, making the grass below move from how quickly he had gone.

**

* * *

Preview of Chapter 4—Trust: **

A new trust begins between Harry and Draco… (Not slash.)


	4. Trust

"The glory of friendship is not the outstretched hand, nor the kindly smile, nor the joy of companionship; it is the spiritual inspiration that comes to one when you discover that someone else believes in you and is willing to trust you with a friendship."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

**4**

**Trust**

When evening came around, both Harry and Draco were starving. They had practiced Quidditch all day, and now needed some food to make up for the energy they had lost. They sat down at the long table with Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. Soon, they were eating away, like there was no tomorrow.

In the midst of stuffing his face full of food, Harry heard a loud tapping on one the dining room windows. He turned around to see Hedwig, flying outside with a letter attached to her leg.

Mr. Malfoy called for Dobby, but it was his letter, so he wanted to get it himself. "Don't worry about it. I can get it," Harry said. He got up from his chair and opened the window enough to let Hedwig in. She landed on the table, right in front of his plate.

After he had taken the letter off and had given Hedwig some juice and food, Harry opened the letter. He recognized the big, loopy handwriting as Ron's. Without reading it, Harry put it away in his pocket, so he could look at it later.

Harry was sitting next to Draco, who asked, "Who's it from?"

"Draco, don't be so ill-mannered," said Draco's father sternly, from the end of the table. "That is not your letter."

"Yes, father," said Draco as if by nature, as he went back to his eating.

Harry looked at his friend, who was poking at the food on his plate. Draco would not have reacted that way if someone else had talked to him like that. He would have gotten in their face and yelled at them or, possibly, threaten them. But Harry knew that being around Mr. Malfoy made Draco react differently. He obeyed his father's every wish, but it seemed unwillingly. He didn't understand how such a change could occur, but Mr. Malfoy, he knew, was a very intimidating man.

Harry, without moving his head, shifted his eyes to the left to look at the man, who made Draco react so abnormally. His long, blond hair was pushed back into a soft ponytail that went down his back. It was tied back by a black ribbon. Mr. Malfoy's face had a certain blankness to it at the moment, but there was a hint of self-importance even as he sat there, eating.

Draco's mother was to his right opposite her husband, reading a small red book. Her blonde hair was long, as well, but not as long as Mr. Malfoy's. And instead of having gray eyes like the two other males, her eyes were a bright blue.

Harry looked away, running his fingers through his dark hair. "Draco, finish your food," said Mrs. Malfoy, motherly. "Harry, are you done?"

"Yes, I think so," said Harry. Hedwig was now on the back of Harry's chair.

"You can go upstairs while Draco finishes," she said softly.

"Err…okay." Harry got up and put his arm out for Hedwig to get on; they made their way upstairs.

When Harry closed the door to his room, Hedwig flew off and landed on the top of the dresser. Beside the door was his trunk, so Harry bent down and took out parchment and his useful white quill. Of course, the next thing to do was to read the letter Ron had sent.

He opened it up.

_Harry,_

_I hope the Dursley's are treating you well. Tell me when you can get away from them, and I'll come with my brothers and dad to get you. Get back to me,_

_Ron_

After reading the letter, Harry sighed loudly. Truth be told, he didn't want to leave Malfoy Manor. He was having a great time staying with the Malfoy's and was having fun practicing Quidditch with Draco every day. He loved it there, and didn't seem ready to leave, so Harry knew that he would have to continue lying to Ron about where he was.

_Ron,_

_The Dursley's still won't let me leave. They hate me, but won't let me leave just yet. I think they're trying to upset me for their own pleasure. Merlin, I despise them. But there's nothing I can do right now. When I can leave, I'll get back to you. _

_Harry_

He folded the letter down the middle and then again. After he tied it to Hedwig's leg, Harry walked out of the room with Hedwig on his arm, closing the door behind him.

Soon, Harry realized that the only way to get to the tower on the other side of the second floor, was to go down the main stairs and then back up on the other side. For some reason, as Harry went up the other stairs, he felt like he wasn't supposed to be there. It was Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy's side of the second floor, and he felt like he was approaching restricted ground. But as Harry thought about it, he liked the idea of going on restricted ground, and continued on more quickly.

Harry stood in front of the tower's dark brown door. It was a lot taller than the others in the house and a lot thicker, too. He would soon find out why. Harry grabbed the handle, pushing it forward to push the door open. It wasn't a turning handle, it was just there to help push the fairly heavy door open.

As he went through, an immense gust of wind rushed at him. But when he got completely through, there was just a slight breeze. The tower reminded him of the Owlry at Hogwarts, but it wasn't as far up over his head and there weren't any owl droppings on the floor.

It was in the shape of a hexagon, one side being the door he had just entered through. For each "side," there was a metal fence, which went up to Harry's stomach, to prevent the person from falling. Harry could see the trees on the side of the manor and part of the amazing garden in the back. Where each "side" turned into another, was a small column of white marble.

Harry let go of Hedwig and she flew off. He watched as she flew away, leaning on one of the metal fences. The metal wasn't cold, since it was summer and the warm air prevented it from being so. But it was colder than the air, so Harry wrapped his fingers around the metal, liking the feeling of it on his skin.

As he looked at the green trees and blue sky, which only had a couple of clouds in it, a smooth breeze ruffled his hair. He breathed in deeply, taking in the warm, soothing air.

Harry turned when he heard the large door open. Draco came through; his hair flew back as the big gust of wind hit him. He closed the door. "Sending off your letter? Who was it from?"

"A friend," Harry stated plainly.

Harry knew that Draco knew that he meant Ron. "Oh," said Draco, as he looked over one of the other railings. A moment of silence pervaded them before Draco continued on, "I don't spend a lot of time in here, anymore." Harry turned to Draco, who was looking at the numerous trees.

He continued, "I used to when I was younger. Between six and ten, I would always come here because I liked the breeze. But sometimes when my Mum wouldn't let me go outside in the back or after my dad yelled at me, I would come here." Draco turned and pointed to a spot that was to the left of the large door. "I would always sit right there."

Draco turned away to look back at the trees. Harry could hear him laughing slightly at himself. And he continued once more, "I don't know why I'm telling you this. I've never told that to anyone before. Not even Crabbe and Goyle, and I've known them my whole life. Well, its not like they'd remember, anyway."

"You can trust me, Draco. I'm your friend," said Harry genuinely.

Draco nodded understandingly. "And you can trust me, too, Harry," said Draco, as their eyes met for a second. He had sincerity in his voice that Harry had never heard before. Harry, too, nodded agreeably.

Afterwards, they walked back into the manor, deciding to play some Chess.

As Harry walked, he thought about what Draco had just done. Draco had just told Harry a secret of his, not that it was a major one, but it was a secret nonetheless. Harry knew this meant Draco trusted him. And Harry knew deep down that he trusted Draco, too.

It wasn't spoken, but it was a mutual agreement between them that from then on, they would be best friends. And when you're a Slytherin, its good to have a friend you can trust completely.

----------------------

Another five days had passed with Harry staying at Malfoy Manor. Harry was really beginning to regard the place as a second home. Two days ago it began to rain and wouldn't stop, so Harry and Draco spent most of their time in the Great Room, playing Wizard's Chess and Exploding Snap.

The next day, Harry awoke from the sound of Draco closing his door in the other room. And then it hit him: today was his birthday. The room was very dim because of the lack of windows, but some light came from underneath both doors.

Harry sat up and waved his arm, so the torches lit. Hedwig, who was sitting atop the dresser, hooted. After putting on his glasses, he saw boxes of presents on the floor beside his bed. He actually stopped for a moment, not believing what he was seeing. There were actual presents for _him_. Harry smiled happily and threw off the covers quickly.

The first present he picked up was from Hermione. It was wrapped in muggle paper that said "Happy Birthday" all over it. He took of the wrapping off and saw a dark blue book about magical creatures. He opened it to any random page and saw a section on Dragons. It was a book that actually looked interesting. He opened her letter.

_Harry,_

_Just wanted to wish you a Happy Birthday! I hope you enjoy the book. By the way, I'll be going to the Burrow soon. I hope to see you there. Your friend,_

_Hermione_

The next, more square box covered in a sort of shiny foil was unwrapped very quickly. Harry opened the box to find all sorts of wonderful sweets: half a dozen chocolate frogs, a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, a couple pieces of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, and two Peppermint Toads. As Harry grabbed the parchment that had been inside the box, he opened the bag of jelly beans, putting one in his mouth.

_Harry,_

_Happy Birthday! I got you a bunch of sweets to cheer you up since your at the Dursley's. I hope your doing well. Your mate,_

_Ron_

There was another box that had been lying next to Ron's. It was wrapped in simple brown paper with a red string around it. Harry managed to rip off the string and paper in less than ten seconds.

Inside the box, were three cupcakes with yellow icing on them and blue words. On the first cupcake was "Hapee," on the second was "Burthday," and the third was "Harry." A note was behind the cupcakes, which said: _Hiya, Harry! Hapee Burthday! Hope your having a great summer! See you soon, Hagrid._

A lavish, high-polished rectangular box lay on the ground beside his bed. There was a black handle on the front and a small, metal snap. Harry reached over and picked it up, afterwards flicking open the snap. Holding the sides, he flipped up the top of the box. An assortment of cleaning and polishing products for Harry's broom were inside. There was also a special cloth that could clean the broom without water and dried instantly.

_Happy Birthday, Harry! Enjoy your new present. Draco._

Harry closed the box from Draco and looked at the floor. There were no more presents left, but he was pleased that he had even gotten presents for his birthday. All previous years, the Dursley's hadn't even acknowledged the fact that he had a birthday.

Harry moved toward his trunk to get dressed, but then stepped on something. On the floor was a small folded piece of parchment. He unfolded it, curious as to who had witten it, but he had a small idea who had.

_I overheard Master Malfoy say it was your birthday, Harry Potter. So I want you to have a happy birthday. But if you want another birthday, you must not go to Hogwarts, Harry Potter. Remember this. Dobby the house elf._

"Sorry, Dobby. But you're not stopping me from going to Hogwarts," Harry said to himself. He flung the parchment onto his bed.

Harry stood there with his new gifts in front of him, and tons of wrappings and pieces of paper on the floor. He put the items in his trunk for now, and then put on a green cloak.

His stomach was growling from hunger, and lack of food was making him lightheaded, but then again it might have been the presents he had just gotten, which improved his day. He went down to breakfast.

When he walked in, all three Malfoy's looked up at him with a cheerfulness. "Happy Birthday, Harry," said Draco with a smile. Harry was pleased that a family, though it was not his, was happy for him. All through his childhood, the Dursley's had never been happy for him for anything. He sat down next to Draco, blissfully.

"Good morning, Harry, darling," said Mrs. Malfoy. "Happy Birthday." She gave him a warm smile before turning back to her food.

"We'll be going to Knockturn Alley today, Harry. Chose something from one of the stores and I'll get it for you," said Mr. Malfoy. He gave Harry a sort of half-smile, half-smirk.

"Mr. Malfoy, you don't have to, really," said Harry. He piled some hot bacon and fresh pancakes on his plate. But he actually did want something from Knockturn Alley. He had never been there, even though he had heard about it from Draco, and wanted something to remember the day when people had recognized his birthday.

"I insist," said Mr. Malfoy as if it was the end of conversation. So Harry turned to Draco and they talked about the stores they would go into later that day.

When Harry couldn't eat anymore, he and Draco went upstairs to get ready to leave for the day. Harry changed into a more suitable black cloak. He opened the connecting door to see Draco standing in front of the mirror as he combed back his silver blond hair.

"Ready?" he asked.

Without turning away from his reflection, Draco said, "Almost."

Draco's window was open slightly and just then a small tawny owl came in, carrying a letter. Harry's gaze followed the owl, which went into his room. He turned back to Draco, but he hadn't noticed the bird that had just flew by.

As he walked back into his room, Harry knew that the letter was from Ron.

_Harry,_

i _When you're ready, I'll get you from the Dursley's house. Just tell me when. By the way, Hermione is here. Happy Birthday again!_

_Ron_

Harry knew now that he should go to Ron's house soon. He could see that Ron wanted him to come over. Ron and Hermione were really good friends, but he knew that Ron would want another bloke over. The problem was he had no idea how to get to the Burrow without Draco knowing where he was going and without Ron knowing where he was coming from.

The only solution he could see was telling Ron where he was coming from. Ron was an accepting person, so Harry grabbed his white quill and began to write. As he did, Harry felt worse for lying to Ron about where he was.

_Ron,_

_Go ahead and think whatever you want of me. I lied to you about where I was. I'm at Malfoy Manor. I'm sorry, but I just wanted to stay here a little longer and I didn't know how to tell you. I'm telling you now because I don't know how to get to the Burrow without Draco knowing. Your friend,_

_Harry_

As Harry folded the letter, he sighed deeply, knowing that Ron would be upset. He attached the letter to the owl, which flew away, put the quill away, and walked back into Draco's room. Draco was sitting in an armchair, waiting for him.

"I saw you writing a letter. From a _friend_, I presume?" said Draco.

Harry said nothing, and instead walked to Draco's door. After opening it, he said, "Come on, your father's probably waiting." Harry left and heard Draco getting up to follow him.

Mr. Malfoy was waiting in the Great Room. "Harry, we're going to Knockturn Alley by Floo Powder," Mr. Malfoy said. He was standing near the fireplace, which held no fire.

On the ledge over the fireplace was a dark blue bowl with powder in it. Mr. Malfoy grabbed the bowl, walking toward Harry and Draco. "What's Floo Powder?"

"Draco, take some powder. You're going to show Harry how to do it," said Mr. Malfoy. Draco nodded before taking some of the glittery powder and then stepping into the large fireplace.

Harry watched as his friend said, "Knockturn Alley!" in a clear voice, and then threw the powder at the floor around him. Green fire sprung up around him and then Draco was gone.

Mr. Malfoy handed him the bowl, which Harry took some powder out of. He handed it back to the man beside him before going into the fireplace.

He knew what to do, but he was nervous of not landing in the right place. He had never been to Knockturn Alley. Harry knew that it was a section of Diagon Alley, but Hagrid hadn't taken him there when they went before his first year. Mr. Malfoy was watching him as he threw the powder down, and Harry said, "Knocturnally!"

He felt a warm sensation and saw the green of the flames come up around him, engulfing his vision. He felt a weird sense of being pulled by his feet, and he felt oddly deaf like there was water in his ears. Suddenly, he was pushed forward, but grabbed onto the cramped walls around him to stop from falling.

Harry found himself in another unlit fireplace. It was old and the floor was covered in soot. He stepped out of the fireplace, coughing a little. After wiping off some dirt that covered his cloak, Harry looked up to see that he was inside a pub.

A/N: If you're wondering how Harry knew where the Tower was or that there was one, Draco told him (refer to chapter two). Please tell me if anything was out of the ordinary or weird! Hope you liked it!

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Preview of Chapter 5—Unexpected Offering: **

A day of emotion, thought, hate, and unworthiness…


	5. Unexpected Offering

"People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed; never throw out anyone."

-Audrey Hepburn

**5**

**Unexpected Offering**

After wiping off some dirt that covered his cloak, Harry looked up to see that he was inside a pub.

There was hardly any light since the windows were covered, making it exceptionally dim. The only light was coming from a dozen old, yellowed candles floating around the room. There were old wooden tables and chairs about. The bar was to his right and the exit was opposite him. There were a couple people scattered around the dingy place.

Most of them had their faces covered by the hoods of their dark-colored cloaks. There was a table to his right with a man sitting there. Most of his face was covered by his hood and he couldn't see the man's eyes, but Harry knew the man was watching him.

Harry turned away and quickly walked out, first covering his head with his black hood, so no one recognized him. He walked out of the pub, but then stopped.

There were tons of people walking by him, almost all in black cloaks, covering their faces with their hoods. It looked a lot more dark and dodgy than Diagon Alley ever could get. Sunlight didn't seem to shine in Knockturn Alley as it did in Diagon Alley, so everything seemed obscured and distant. The dark brick walls were covered in vines, and most of the stores had thick curtains covering the windows.

Harry looked down the alleyway to the right and saw a very tall, large bearded man walking his way. Knowing that Hagrid would recognize him and then, possibly, tell him to leave, Harry pulled his hood over his head more. He then walked to the left, so that Hagrid wouldn't see him.

After walking down a while in a quick pace, Harry saw two blond, black-cloaked figures walking into a store named Borgin and Burkes. He immediately followed Mr. Malfoy and Draco into the store.

He stepped inside, took his hood off, and then walked next to Draco. "Hey," said Harry, wanting to startle him. And he did, he saw Draco jump in surprise.

"I was wondering where you got to," said Draco. Harry explained where he landed before they walked over to examine the interesting objects that were all around the store.

As Mr. Malfoy stood at the counter talking to a thin, creepy man behind it, Harry and Draco walked to a shriveled hand that was holding an old candle. The hand had a sign next to it that read: _Hand of Glory_. "What does that do?" asked Harry.

An airy but sinister voice said from behind him, "It gives light only to its holder, Mr. Potter. Very useful, very useful indeed." The man walked past them, and picked something up, which Harry couldn't see. He then walked back to the counter to a waiting Mr. Malfoy.

Harry moved to get a better look at what Mr. Malfoy was buying, pretending to examine a rope that was on the table. Draco was off looking somewhere else at the moment. The man behind the counter motioned toward Harry's direction and he quickly looked away. After a couple seconds, he looked back up and they were both turned away.

Mr. Malfoy brought his hand to his pocket and pulled out some shiny galleons, afterwards, laying them on the counter. Harry watched as the man handed Mr. Malfoy the object he had gotten before, but he still couldn't see what it was. Harry turned away when Draco called him over to show him an object.

Soon after, Mr. Malfoy called to them and they left Borgin and Burkes.

For the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, they went to a couple stores in Knockturn Alley. But Harry still didn't see anything he really wanted, though he did keep thinking about the Hand of Glory.

When it was close to one in the afternoon, Harry and Draco were both hungry and asked to get something to eat. Mr. Malfoy took them out of Knockturn Alley and into the Leaky Cauldron, where they finally sat down.

It felt good to be off his legs. Harry's feet hurt from walking around and looking through the stores. He lay back in the chair, taking a nice cool breath of air. The air outside had been warm and muggy, but when he had walked through the door light, cool air came at him pleasantly.

Draco sat beside him while Mr. Malfoy sat across from him. Harry and Draco ordered some food, but when asked, Mr. Malfoy said he wouldn't be staying. "Father, where are you going?"

"That's not something you have to know," Mr. Malfoy said as he handed Draco some money. "I'll be back. But if I'm not back before you're done, meet me in Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop. You're not to go into Knockturn Alley alone." The blond man got up, turned on his heel and left.

"That was odd," Harry said, after Mr. Malfoy had gone.

"No, not really. He never tells me where he's going," said Draco, putting some food into his mouth. Harry followed since he was starving.

Half of an hour later, all the food was gone and Mr. Malfoy hadn't shown up yet. They decided to go to Gambol and Japes, hopefully they would find some interesting items to use during the school year.

They looked around the joke shop, pointing out items to each other.

"Wicked!"

"Bloody hell!"

Draco decided to buy some Fanged Frisbees from the shop. As he was at the counter, buying them, the door opened. Mr. Malfoy walked in, holding a package wrapped in brown paper. He walked toward Harry.

Mr. Malfoy looked at Harry with a small smirk on his face before handing him the package. "A gift," the man said simply.

A small smile appeared on Harry's face as he looked from Mr. Malfoy to the package. He had thought Mr. Malfoy had forgotten about the fact that he had promised him a present, and was completely surprised that Mr. Malfoy hadn't for he had not been expecting to get one. Harry took it contendedly.

Under the brown paper and inside a box, was the object Harry had been looking at earlier in Borgin and Burkes – the Hand of Glory. The bony hand, holding a yellowed candle lay in the plain box. At seeing it, his smile turned into a smirk. If the light from it only shown for him then it might come in use some day.

Harry closed the box, looking up. "Thank you, sir."

Mr. Malfoy nodded as if approving of him. He turned to his son, who was walking back from the counter with the Fanged Frisbees in his pocket. "Do you always need such crap?" he asked, looking down upon him.

Harry chuckled at hearing Mr. Malfoy words, and Draco gave him a dirty look, but he said nothing to his father; just looked at the ground.

As he held the package in his hands, Harry looked at Mr. Malfoy out of the corner of his eye. The man was constantly putting Draco down. How could he do that to his own son; his own family? But then Harry thought of Uncle Vernon, and how he constantly made him feel like he was nothing and didn't matter to the world. He hated Uncle Vernon with a deep loathing. Did Draco have the same hate for his father.

--------------------------

In hardly any time at all, Mr. Malfoy and Draco and Harry were back inside Malfoy Manor. It was late afternoon now. Harry and Draco went upstairs, going into their seperate rooms at first. Harry placed his new Hand of Glory, which was still inside its box, inside his trunk.

Harry turned to go through the side door into Draco's room, but saw Hedwig on his bed with a letter tied to her leg. It must be from Ron. A wave of nervousness as to what Ron had written swept over him.

_Harry,_

_First off, I don't know why you didn't just tell me! What I think of you is that you aren't trusting. You should have just told me. But the way to get to the Burrow is to first leave Malfoy Manor until you get to a street. All you really have to do is wait, and the Knight Bus should come. I've never been on the bus personally, but it should take you here. See you soon,_

_Ron_

It didn't matter what Ron wrote because Harry knew Ron was angry with him. It was obvious he was trying to seem like he wasn't; he was trying to hide it. But what Ron said was true, he should have just told him. It would have been a lot easier. But the thing is, he couldn't tell Draco he was going to Ron's. The same acceptance Ron had, Harry knew, Draco didn't.

Harry looked back at the letter and saw the words "Knight Bus." He was skeptical about it, but he knew he had to go along anyway. He, obviously, couldn't ride a broom to the Burrow, it would take too long. He could go by Floo Powder, but then Draco would know where he was going since he had to say it aloud. So it was settled, he'd be taking the Knight Bus.

There was a knock on the side door. He knew it was Draco; he stuffed the letter in his right robe pocket. If Harry was going to lie about where he was going, he might as well do it now, instead of waiting and getting more axious about it.

Without waiting for an answer, Draco opened the door. "Wait are you doing?" he asked casually.

Harry turned to look at Draco. "I just got a letter from Dumbledore, and he says I have to go back to the Dursley's," said Harry, "Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Draco asked. "How long do you have to stay with your family?"

"I don't know," Harry said as he shrugged his shoulders.

"Where's the letter?"

"Tore it up," said Harry as he pretended to look a bit angry.

"Is someone meeting you?" Draco asked, curious.

"No. Dumbledore said to take the…something called the Knight Bus."

"Oh," said Draco, looking oddly saddened.

Harry looked at him unsurely, turning his head sideways slightly.

"Well, you probably should be packing or something," Draco said, looking at Harry's trunk near the door, which was behind Harry.

"Err…yeah, I guess."

Draco turned and left through the side door into his room. Harry just stared as Draco closed the door. When it had, he exhaled quickly as if he had been holding his breath. Harry didn't like lying to Draco, his best mate. He took the letter out of his pocket, and went to his trunk, stuffing it into the side pocket with the other letters from Ron and Hermione.

He closed the trunk after doing so, and then heard Draco's door close in the room next to his. Harry had no intention of packing at the moment. That was something he could do tomorrow before he left. He went to sit in the armchair near the door, needing a moment to relax. The question now was when he was going to leave tomorrow.

As Harry sat there, he thought of when he would _want_ to go. Never was the answer. He liked being there too much, but he had to leave sometime. But he knew he'd have to leave by tomorrow evening. Harry didn't want to go earlier than that. He wanted to soak the place up before finally going. Obviously, he would be back next year, but that would be a year from now.

Harry got up from his seat, walking toward his door. He knew that Draco had left his room, so he walked down to the Entrance Hall. He then turned to go into the Great Room, hoping to find Draco. But he wasn't there. Harry checked the Dining Room, but he wasn't there eithor. Where could he be? He knew that Draco didn't really go anywhere else in the manor. Then again, he could be outside, it was only six in evening and it was still light outside.

After going through the hallway, he went into the Ballroom, which had French doors, leading to the garden. The Ballroom was a rather large room – the marble floor here was a lot whiter than in the Entrance Hall. There was a highly-polished, black piano near the door to his right, and beneath the piano was a small but elegant rug. Around the room, not for the purpose of looking into, were mirrors with silver and gold frames. An exceptionally large mirror with a golden frame was situated above the French doors, which was opposite the door to the hall. And above the door to the hall was a very large, wonderfully crafted oil painting of people dancing and talking. As Harry stood in the middle of the room, he could see the reflection of the painting in the mirror perfectly. There were a couple armchairs here and there with midnight blue velvet.

Harry opened the door to the garden. It was nicer outside now than it had been less than an hour ago. It was a little darker, and the way the light hit the massive weeping willow, made the shadow crawl up across the grass. When Harry reached the pond in the back, he saw it gently rippling from the wind.

He searched outside, but Draco was nowhere. He faced the back of the large manor, looking at the tower, which was to his right. Harry didn't see anyone there, but he thought he'd go look anyway.

When he got to the tower, he pushed the massive door open. A gust of wind came at him. He closed it, and looked down to his right. Sitting there with his legs outstretched, arms folded, and his head resting casually against the wall was Draco. He looked up at Harry, who looked down at him.

"What are you doing up here?" Harry asked, moving to sit on the ground cross-legged. "I was looking for you."

"Yeah, I know. I saw you in the garden," said Draco plainly.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Draco just shrugged.

There was a moments pause when no one said anything. Draco was looking at his shoes and Harry was looking at the floor. But he couldn't take it anymore and burst out saying, "_What the bloody hell is wrong?!_"

Draco moved unconfortably, looking around the tower. "Well…." It was obvious something was bothering him, but he didn't want to say anything. "If you leave then I'm alone with my father."

"What about your mum?"

"She doesn't do anything!" Draco blurted angrily. "It's really just him and me. I hardly ever see her. She's _always_ out with friends or just plain gone."

That was true. During the day, Mrs. Malfoy wasn't really around and in the evenings she would be gone, too. There were only a couple of dinners when she had been there.

"Oh," said Harry. "Well, why do you not like being with your dad?" But he could tell what the answer was ahead of time.

Draco just looked at Harry incredulously. "You've been around my father. You know what he's like. But he gets worse, Harry. When someone else is around, he's perfectly fine. That's why I don't want you to leave."

"You can have Crabbe or Goyle or Blaise come over," said Harry thoughtfully.

"Zabini is traveling with his mum. But my father's been around Crabbe and Goyle so much that he doesn't act any different. He acts like he would act if they weren't there," said Draco. "You're the only one where he's…different, I guess."

"Well, what do you mean when you say he gets worse?" Harry asked, curious.

Draco noticed the curiousity and was suddenly unwilling to say anything more. "Forget it." He got up and wrenched the door open, his hair flying back. He turned back to Harry and said, "Dinner's probably ready by now."

Harry followed Draco out of the tower, and then down the stairs into the Dining Room. They walked in silence.

Mr. Malfoy was already there, eating by himself. There was a glass of dark red wine, almost the color of blood, in front of him. He ate his food delicately, but he didn't look delicate. After what Draco had told him, he looked almost menacing as he just sat there, eating quietly.

Harry and Draco sat down at the table and Dobby came over, bringing them warm plates of dinner. In the beginning, they all ate in silence. It was so quiet that Harry heard a sort of buzzing in his hears from lack of sound.

The door from the Great Room opened, and Mrs. Malfoy walked in from being out all day. "Good evening," she said plainly to no one in particular. She sat down at the table, looking first at Mr. Malfoy and then at the two boys. Mr. Malfoy barely acknowledged her pressence.

There was mostly silence during the dinner except for the few times when Draco and Harry actually spoke to each other. Harry knew Draco was saddened by his having to leave.

But the silence gave Harry time to think: Did Mrs. Malfoy and Draco depend on his presence that much? Was he, in a way, letting them down by leaving? He couldn't believe they needed him to stop Mr. Malfoy from becoming 'worse' and 'different.' But he had no idea what that meant. How did Mr. Malfoy change?

Harry was thrust out of his thoughts when Dobby came into the room carrying a large, circular chocolate cake that had twelve different-colored bithday candles, all of which were whistling loudly. Dobby placed the cake in front of him, and he couldn't help but smile at the sight of it. He couldn't remember the last time he had ever gotten a cake of his very own. Upon it in dark blue frosting were the written words: Happy Birthday, Harry.

"Make a wish!" said Mrs. Malfoy, a cheerful little smile on her face.

Harry turned to his friend Draco, who was was looking at the cake with the same small smile on his face. But his eyes looked sad and slightly tired. He turned back to the cake and leaned over, ready to blow out the candles.

_I wish for Draco to get what he truly wants in life!_

After thinking that, Harry blew the candles out three at a time until little whisps of smoke were billowing from the tiny candles. The flame atop of the candle must have been what was making the noise because the whistling ceased.

"Happy birthday, Harry, darling," said Mrs. Malfoy. Draco and Mr. Malfoy both wished him a happy birthday, after which he thanked them.

The cake was taken away and then brought back in on smaller plates. They all ate a lot happier now, especially Draco, who ate his piece feverishly. Harry himself was a lot happier. It hadn't been the best day, but it had been the best birthday. He smiled to himself as he ate his wonderful chocolate cake with delight.

A/N: Lots of emotion. I just hope Draco didn't seem to over-emotional. Tell me if he did and in the future, I'll be more careful. What do **_you_** think Draco truly wants in life? I'm curious to know. Thanks for reading!

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Preview of Chapter 6—Bare: **

Harry hears Mr. Malfoy and an old Death Eater friend, talking late at night and tells some of his life story to the Malfoy's…


	6. Bare

"Whoever undertakes to set himself up as a judge of Truth and Knowledge is shipwrecked by the laughter of the gods."

-Albert Einstein

**6**

**Bare**

His birthday was now over. As Harry sat up in his bed, he checked his watch, which said that it was just past 12 pm. He had fallen asleep at 11:15 pm, but had just awoken because he had pushed his blanket off of him onto the floor. He got his glasses from the sidetable and grabbed the blanket off the floor.

As he sat in the bed, rubbing his arms because he was cold, Harry realized that he was thirsty. He completely forgot that he could just call for Dobby, who would get him a drink from the kitchen, and got up from his bed. Before leaving the room, he put on a housecloak.

Being barefoot felt nice against the bottom of his feet since the marble was cold and refreshing. He walked slowly and quietly down the hall, where one of the three torches hanging was alit. Harry reached the bottom of the main stairs, yawning widely but silently, standing in the Entrance Hall. There was four torches dismally lit around the large room, giving off an eerie orange glow.

Harry was just about to turn to the right into the Great Room, but heard voices coming from the parlor. He turned toward it, noticing that light was creeping from below the frosted doors. Quietly, Harry walked toward it, forgetting his want for something to drink. He leaned against the wall, listening through the crack between the door and the wall.

"I can't believe Potter did it again," said a deep male voice Harry had never heard before. He pressed his ear against the wood of the door, listening even more closely at hearing the sound of his name.

"Nor can I. He's only a boy and yet he was face to face with the Dark Lord once more, and escaped. The Dark Lord is gone again," said Mr. Malfoy, almost angrily. "But the He'll be back. I'm sure of it."

"If you're so sure then why aren't you out, looking for Him," said the other man.

"I haven't spoken to the Dark Lord in twelve years. I have no idea where He is or even when He'll be back," said Mr. Malfoy.

Harry heard the chinking of glass against glass, and then a liquid being poured. A second later, he heard someone taking a long sip. "Besides, I have to keep up appearances until the Dark Lord returns. As do you, Rookwood. We'll be of no use to Him if we're found out and sent to Azkaban before He comes back to full power," finished Mr. Malfoy.

There was a slight pause, and then the man named Rookwood spoke, "So you're sure he'll be back, Lucius?"

"He's the Dark Lord. He's the greatest, most powerful wizard ever known to the Wizarding world," said Mr. Malfoy with an air of appraisal. "There is no doubt in my mind that He'll be back. It's only a matter of time."

"And how much time do you think there is between now and then?" Rookwood asked.

"How am I to know?" said Mr. Malfoy. "I expect in the next few years we'll hear of him. Or the Mark will grow blacker and when it does, we'll know he's back."

There was a moment of silence where Harry guessed the man named Rookwood was nodding. "After the Dark Lord's downfall, the Mark, I daresay, grew almost pale," said Rookwood in contemplation.

"Hmm…I too thought the Dark Lord was gone forever in the beginning. But such a wizard is never gone for good," said Mr. Malfoy.

"Good thing, too," said Rookwood. "Muggle-borns and blood traitors roaming the streets and taking over the Ministry. Ugh." The man grunted in disgust. "When the Dark Lord is back, we'll have free reign to kill and torture whoever we want," continued the man with an odd sort of delight. Harry knew that if he saw the man, there would probably be a smirk of satisfaction on his face.

"Speaking of _free reign_, I'm sure you heard about Greyback," said Mr. Malfoy, almost conversationally. Harry heard him take another sip of his drink.

"First task done for the Dark Lord in over eleven years," said Rookwood, "And it goes to a bastard like him. He was even sent to Azkaban."

Harry heard Mr. Malfoy chuckle. "At least the man had the decency to send me a letter, warning that he would be going to the school," said Draco's father.

"Why would he do that?" asked Rookwood. "One more child he can kill or turn, is fine by him, the sick bastard."

"He owed me one. Had a complication with the Ministry a few years back that I settled for him no questions asked," said Mr. Malfoy unemotionally.

"Oh, how kind of you," said Rookwood sacastically. He laughed where it was almost at the point of being loud.

"Would you shut the hell up!" said Mr. Malfoy, almost as loud. "You'll wake my son and Potter."

"I should be going, anyway," said Rookwood. Harry heard glass hit a wooden table, making a somewhat hollowed, chinking sound.

Realizing that the two men were going to come out of the parlor in less than a minute, Harry rushed over to the stairs and up a few steps, so it looked as if he had just come down them. One of the frosted parlor doors opened, allowing the two men to enter the Entrance Hall. Rookwood walked out first, followed by Mr. Malfoy.

Rookwood looked around the hall and saw Harry standing on the stairs. "Ah, Potter! A pleasure to meet you," said the man, walking toward him, a crooked smile on his face. Harry walked down the stairs, meeting the man halfway.

They shook hands and Harry got a better look at the certain Death Eater standing before him. The man's face was pockmarked all over and his hair was greasy, though not as bad as Snape's. He let go of Rookwood's hand; the man was now watching him closely.

"Harry, what are you doing outside of bed?" asked Mr. Malfoy, somewhat uneasily. Harry suspected that Mr. Malfoy thought he had overheard them talking, which he had.

He glanced at the blond man standing to his right next to Rookwood. They made eye contact for moment as Harry said somewhat-believably, "I just wanted something to drink. I couldn't sleep."

"You could've just called for Dobby. It's his job to get you something if you so desire for it," said Mr. Malfoy.

"I forgot, sir," said Harry, looking Mr. Malfoy to Rookwood and back. The pockmark-faced man was looking at him through narrowed eyes.

"I best be going, Lucius," said Rookwood. He nodded to Mr. Malfoy and then at Harry before walking toward the door, which opened of its own accord. The man walked through and before the door closed fully, Harry heard a "pop."

The door closed and he started walking back toward the stairs. "Good night," said Harry, reaching the first step.

"Not fancying a drink anymore?" Mr. Malfoy asked.

Harry turned to see the man below. "Not anymore, sir."

"If you're sure, Harry," said Mr. Malfoy, whose gray eyes watched him as he walked barefoot up the marble steps.

When he entered his room, he bung his housecloak onto an armchair before flopping onto his bed. He couldn't believe what he had heard. It seemed Mr. Malfoy and the man Rookwood had been Death Eaters until Voldemort's fall, which he caused. And apparently if Voldemort comes back, which Mr. Malfoy suspected he would, then Mr. Malfoy said he'd be back on the Dark Lord's side. But the two men also spoke of Harry. It was clear they were surprised that he had survived again since everyone knew Voldemort was a powerful wizard. But he had survived twelve years ago. Why not once more?

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"Harry Potter, sir," said a somewhat-familiar voice from a far and distant land.

Harry was somewhere between consciousness and the dream world. From what he could make out, he was laying on his bed and someone was talking to him. He suddenly opened his eyes as he realized that. He grabbed for his glasses, but they fell to the floor next to his bed.

Thin, grayish fingers picked them up for him, and that's when Harry realized that the voice belonged to Dobby the house elf, who was standing beside his bed. He handed the glasses to Harry.

"Thanks," said Harry uncertainly, knowing what Dobby was there for. "You're still going to try and talk to me about not going to Hogwarts, aren't you?"

Dobby nodded slowly, glancing every now and then towards both of the doors. "You must not go back Harry Potter. Bad things are going to happen."

"I know. You told me before about a Chamber of Secrets, but you haven't told me what bad things," said Harry, watching the creature carefully. Then it hit him. "Do you mean deaths, Dobby?"

The creature before him made a high-pitched squeak, and then moved over to the wall, hitting his large head against it. Harry instantly got out of bed and grabbed the creature, bringing him away from the wall by the dirty pillowcase that was thinning from overuse.

When Harry was satisfied that Dobby wasn't going to hit his head against the wall again, he let go. He sat down on the edge of his bed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"That's what it is, isn't it?" Harry asked of Dobby. But he didn't need an answer, he already knew from Dobby hitting his head that the creature had been holding back the truth; that deaths might occur at Hogwarts. "People might be killed."

The only problem was that he didn't know who or what was going to kill. But he couldn't let something like this happen. Deaths in Hogwarts couldn't happen. It's the safest place in the world as far as Harry was concerned.

"I can't not go, Dobby. If I can just find out who is going to be doing this, then I can help it all stop," said Harry.

"But Harry Potter might get hurt if he goes. Dobby must not let Harry Potter go if it means Harry Potter might get hurt in the process," said the creature, who was looking at him with large eyes.

"Dobby, there is nothing you can do," said Harry firmly. "I'm going back to Hogwarts. You're not stopping me."

Harry got up from his bed, checking his watch. It was past eight in the morning. He grabbed the cloak he had thrown last night and walked toward the connecting door, moving past Dobby.

The creature was wringing his hands together nervously as he stood there. Harry heard Dobby muttering something under his breath. He turned to look at the creature, but then he heard a small "pop" and Dobby disappeared. He knocked on the door a couple times.

"Come in," said Draco from the other side.

After grabbing the handle, Harry opened the door to see Draco sitting up in his bed, rubbing his eyes. "Did I wake you?"

"No. I was already up," replied Draco. His hair was disheveled a little, but probably not as bad as Harry's, now that he thought about it. He grabbed the chair from under Draco's desk and brought it over so it was next to Draco's bed.

"Can I ask you something?" Harry asked as he made himself comfortable in the chair. Draco nodded and he continued, "Is, I mean, was your father a Death Eater?"

Draco, who had been fixing his hair, stopped and looked Harry in the eye. "Why do you want to know?" he asked almost accusingly.

"I was just wondering," said Harry.

"Did you see something?" Draco asked, watching him closely just like his father. "Or hear something?"

"No. I just…It seems quite obvious to me," said Harry, thinking up something quickly. "He…and you are always talking about how you don't like Muggles and Muggle-borns. It fits together."

And that was true. He wondered how he had never thought of it before or realized it. There was the obvious hate he had learned of between Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley though he had never actually seen the two together. The Weasley's were purebloods, Harry knew, but they were fine being around Muggles and Muggle-borns. And that in any Malfoy's eyes meant they were a blood traitor. And since Voldemort had that point of view, it was clear Mr. Malfoy would join a man of such power whose ideas were alike.

"Yeah, well that doesn't mean he's a Death Eater. There are lots of other wizards and witches who don't like Muggle-borns, and they aren't following You-Know-Who," said Draco guardedly.

"Name them then!" said Harry.

"I don't have any actual people in mind!" said Draco. "I was just making a point!"

"Well, is he or isn't he?" Harry asked seriously, looking Draco in the eye.

His blond friend said nothing for sometime, his eyes darting between the door leading to the hallway, Harry, and the floor. He seemed to be thinking very seriously, and then he said, "He _was_."

Harry thought, _That's what you think._

-------------------------

That evening, Harry found himself in his room, packing his stuff. He and Draco had spoken for a while longer in the morning, but no more about Draco's father. Later they had played some last minute Quidditch and Wizard's Chess, knowing they wouldn't see each other till September.

Harry grabbed a cloak, which had been laying on the armchair for a couple days. He bung the cloak into his open trunk. Once he had everything inside, he closed it. He grabbed Hedwig's cage and opened it, so she could fly in from the top of the dresser. She looked at him sadly from within the cage a minute later.

"Sorry, Hedwig," Harry said. "It's only for a little while."

After opening the door, Harry took hold of the trunk's handle with his left hand as he held the cage in his right. He turned right, carrying his immensly heavy trunk down the hallway. He managed to get his trunk down the large marble stairs without breaking it or himself from falling.

Harry left the trunk near the front door, Hedwig inside her cage beside it. He was just about to go into the Dining Hall when he remembered his Conglomerate Stone. He picked up the top of his trunk and scrambled for the Stone, eventually finding it under a bunch of clothes. But, unfortunately, Harry couldn't make one of the stones into a Portkey because he wasn't allowed to use magic. He turned to look at the Great Room, knowing that beyond Mr. Malfoy was eating dinner. Would he do it for Harry?

Mr. Malfoy and Draco were already inside, sipping some soup. After he sat down, a bowl and a goblet of pumpkin juice was brought to him by Dobby, who kept looking at him as if he would change his mind about going back to Hogwarts. But he would never do that.

"Err…Mr. Malfoy, I was wondering if you could…" said Harry as put the Conglomderate Stone on the table. Draco turned to look him. "I want Malfoy Manor to be on here, but I can't do it myself."

The blond man, sitting to his left at the head of the table, nodded. Mr. Malfoy took out his wand, flicking it toward the Stone, which flew toward him. He caught it and placed it in front of him.

Without looking up, Mr. Malfoy asked, "Which color?"

"Gray."

Mr. Malfoy pointed his long, black wand at the gray stone, which was stuck into the larger Stone. It seemed like a good choice for Malfoy Manor; Draco's and Mr. Malfoy's eyes were both gray. It seemed to fit in an odd way.

"_Malfoy Manor!_"

The transparent gray stone became opaque before Harry's eyes. After getting the Stone back, he placed the Conglomerate Stone carefully into his pocket. "Thank you, sir."

Afterwards, the three of them ate mostly in silence. Harry glanced at Draco, who was sitting to his right. He looked even more depressed than he did yesterday at dinner. Harry knew it was because he was leaving tonight, probably in less than an hour.

Eventually, the door opened like yesterday from the Great Hall and in walked Mrs. Malfoy, looking quite grim. "Harry, darling, I saw your trunk in front of the door," she said sweetly. "Are you leaving?"

Harry looked at Mr. Malfoy, who was staring at him, and then turned to Mrs. Malfoy. "Yes, I'm leaving tonight."

"I see," she said quietly as she sat down.

"Why so soon?" Mr. Malfoy asked from his left. Harry turned.

"Dumbledore told me I had to go back to the Dursley's, sir," he said uncomfortably.

"That's interesting," said Mr. Malfoy slowly. "Why would he make you go back?"

"I don't know, sir," Harry said. He turned to his bowl, moving its contents with his spoon.

"Draco told me those Muggles treat you badly, Harry," Mrs. Malfoy asked.

Harry looked at Draco, who was staring intently at his bowl. "Yeah, they don't treat me very well. Never have."

"You shouldn't let those Muggles treat you with disrespect," said Mr. Malfoy. "You're a wizard. They're lower than you."

Ignoring Mr. Malfoy's statement, Mrs. Malfoy asked, "Why is that?"

"My…my aunt never liked the fact that my mum was a witch," said Harry, looking into his bowl of soup. But after he said that he realized he had just told them he was a half-blood, although they already knew that since they had picked him up from the Dursley's. Harry just hadn't actually registered the fact in his mind.

A half-blood sitting with a family of purebloods. There was a slight isolated feeling coming over him, but he tried to ignore it as best as he could.

"The night my parents were killed, I was given to my aunt and uncle…but they hate me. They never wanted to take me in. I really don't know why they did. I could've been placed in some orphanage. It would be better than living with them. They give everything to my cousin, Dudley, who has annoyed me every since we were little. To them, I am nothing; I am a burden – an unwanted burden. I am treated like dirt there," said Harry, getting slightly angry as he thought about the Dursley's.

It felt odd saying this to the Malfoy's, but for some reason it also felt good, like he had finally released a part of him that he had been holding back and that had been holding him back.

Harry felt a hand on his right shoulder, but didn't turn. "You're my best friend, Harry. No one _here_ is going to treat you like dirt, mate. And you're safe at Malfoy Manor from the Dursley's," said Draco. He looked up from his soup to see all three Malfoy's watching him. There was a little worried smile on Draco's face. Harry nodded, reassured.

A/N: Did you like it or hate it? Was the ending too cliché? I think you can all tell by now that I hate cliché's. But it might've been a bit cliché. Thanks for reading, guys!

**Preview of Chapter 7—Unwelcome:**

Harry goes to the Burrow, but it doesn't turn out as well as he would've liked…


	7. Unwelcome

"It can be a pleasure to suffer from unwelcome truths."  
-Jim Woodring

**7**

**Unwelcome**

"I'll see you in September, Draco," said Harry as he stood in the doorway, holding the handle of his trunk. "Send me letters until then, okay?"

Draco, looking slightly grim, nodded. "I will. Bye."

"Bye," said Harry. Just as he said that Mr. Malfoy turned up behind Draco. He didn't seem to have any expression on his face; he just seemed to be staring at Harry. He looked at Mr. Malfoy for a moment, and then turned away.

As he lugged his trunk and Hedwig's cage down the stairs, he could still feel Mr. Malfoy's eyes on him. When he reached the gate, they opened of their own accord. He turned to the manor; the door was now closed, but he still felt as if Mr. Malfoy was watching him.

Harry walked through the large, black gate. In front of him, which he had never noticed before, was a cobblestone road, leading straight ahead. Trees were on either side of the narrow road seeming to curve over the road, making it darker and more ominous. He could see parts of the sky through the leaves of the trees. It was getting a lot darker, and soon it would be night.

So Harry hoped the Knight Bus came sooner than later. The only problem was he didn't know how the Knight Bus would know he wanted to get on.

He dragged his trunk down the cobblestone road, making a loud irritating, clunking noise. Hedwig would hoot occasionally from inside her cage. Harry looked around the area as he trudged along, but the only things in sight were the trees on either side of the road and the manor behind him. He couldn't see anything in front of him because the road seemed to continue on for a while.

But Harry continued on down the road, thinking about what the Burrow was like and how it would compare to Malfoy Manor. Tiny little flies were around him as he walked, but he just ignored them. Five minutes later, Harry had reached the end of the cobblestone road.

There was nothing but grass everywhere; hills and hills of grass. What now? Ron said he had to find a street for the Knight Bus to find him. Maybe he should just go back? Harry, getting annoyed by the flies, began to swat them away, flinging his right arm into the air.

A bright, blinding light was coming at Harry, as he heard an exceptionally loud "BANG!" He turned away from it, shielding his face, but he didn't have time to move before, he thought, it was going to crash into him. There was a long, loud screeching sound as the thing stopped.

He turned to see that he had almost been hit by…a purple, triple-decker bus. It had stopped mere inches from his body. Slightly shaking, Harry grabbed his trunk and cage and walked around to the door. He noticed on the side, in gold letters, were the words: _The Knight Bus_.

The bus door opened and a young, pimple-faced man came down the steps to greet him. "Welcome to the Knight Bus! It'll take any stranded witch or wizard to the destination o' their choice. My name is Stan Shunpike; I'll be your conductor this evening. So just 'op on board and we'll take you anywhere you want to go," said Stan as if he had been reading from a card.

Stan looked at him as if for the first time. "'Ello! Where do you want to go?"

"Err…the Burrow. Where the Weasley's live," said Harry, unsure about what to say.

"Nine sickles, please," said Stan, sticking his hand out as he stood in the narrow doorway.

Harry reached into his cloak pocket to see if there was any money. Luckily, there was just over. He handed the coins to Stan, who was now looking closely at him.

"Woss your name?" Stan asked, his eyes narrowed as he looked at Harry.

"Harry Potter," he said slowly.

"Harry Potter?! Blimey! Ay, Ern, Harry Potter is comin' on our bus!" Stan turned to talk to an older wizard, who was sitting in the drivers seat.

Stan then helped him bring his trunk and Hedwig's cage up the stairs into the bus. When he looked into the bus, Harry saw seats around the bus, but not like in a normal bus where they were stationary; these were just positioned around the bus. Most of them were near the front because of the abrupt stop earlier.

A seat in the back was occupied by a man, who was holding a book in one hand and the windowsill of the bus with the other tightly. Stan pushed Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage behind the driver. "This 'ere is Ernie Prang. He'll be driving you around today." Harry nodded.

Stan sat down in an armchair next to Ernie. Harry sat down in one of the chairs closest to Stan.

"Where was it you wanted to go?" Stan asked.

"The Burrow."

"You 'eard 'im, Ern," said Stan. "Jus' got to make a couple o' stops first," he said to Harry. The driver, Ernie, grabbed the clutch and pulled it toward him.

There was an incredible "BANG!" and the chair Harry was sitting in was thrust backwards. He was still in his seat, but the seat itself had moved back a couple feet. He pulled the chair forward with his feet as the bus slowed.

Outside the window, he saw a row of stores. As he continued to stare out of the window with interest, he noticed the objects on the street moving out of the bus' way instead of the bus moving out of its way.

"How is it no Muggles see the bus or the objects jumping out of its way?" Harry asked, curious.

"The Muggles, they don't see right. Don't notice nuffick," said Stan.

Another "BANG!" and the bus sprang to a completely different street. Stan got up when the bus fully stopped. Harry heard him say the same speech to a short, white-haired old woman. Stan helped the woman onto the bus and took her upstairs before coming back down to sit.

After the bus moved to another street, Harry found Stan watching him closely. "'Eard about you and You-Know-Oo. About what happened in May," he said. "'Eard you got rid of 'im again."

"Something like that," said Harry uncomfortably, looking out of the window.

There was another stop where they let the man in the back off before they finally got to the Burrow. He saw the house at the end of the dirt road they had sprung to. Stan helped him take his trunk down from the bus.

"Goodbye, Harry!" said Stan enthusiastically. He walked back into the bus and sat down in the armchair, looking at Harry through the window. Not moments after the bus door closed, did a "BANG!" violently erupt as the Knight Bus disappeared.

Harry, who had grabbed the handle of his trunk and Hedwig's cage, began walking toward the Burrow. As he came closer, he saw that the house looked as if it could fall apart at any moment. Parts of it were being held up by thick pieces of wood and most definitely magic, as well. Lights were on all around the house, so he knew the Weasley's were home. Oddly enough, a purple mist seemed to be emanating from an open window on the second floor.

When he got to the door, he knocked unsurely. Maybe they wouldn't let him in since Ron was angry with him. But after a few moments, the door did open, and a woman, wearing an apron, stood in the doorway with a large smile.

"Hello," said the short, somewhat plump woman nicely, whom Harry guessed to be Mrs. Weasley. She had the same bright red hair. "Ron told me you would be coming."

Harry stood there, looking into the room. "Come in, dear," she said, moving aside to let him in. He brought in his trunk. Mrs. Weasley turned away to call up the stairs, "Fred! George! Ron!"

Two twin boys, whom Harry had seen around school, came down the stairs. Mrs. Weasley said, "Help Harry bring his trunk up the stairs. It looks heavy."

"No problem, Mum," said one of them. Harry wasn't sure which since he was looking around the cramped kitchen.

There was a rickety wooden table in the middle of the room with an odd assortment of chairs all around. Cookbooks were stacked on the counter and over the fireplace, pots and pans were cleaning themselves, and there was a tall Grandfather clock in the corner. Nine hands were on the clock, and instead of telling the time, the clock told where each person in the family was or what they were doing. At the moment all nine hands were pointing toward "Home."

"Would you like something to eat, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"No, thanks," he replied. "I'm not that hungry right now."

"Nonsense! I'll make you something anyway," she said, as she turned to make him something. "You look like you're starving."

Footsteps on the stairs, alerted Harry of someone coming down. "Ron!"

"Hiya, Harry!" he said cheerfully. "I was waiting for you to arrive. Come on." He motioned for Harry to follow him up the stairs, which he did. "Hermione's here, but she's in Ginny's room right now. Ginny's my little sister."

Harry followed Ron onto the second landing, where there were two doors a couple feet away from each other. On one of them said, "Fred and George's Room" and the other said, "Percy's Room." They continued onto the third landing where another door said, "Ginny's Room." Giggling could be heard as they passed by. On the fourth landing there was another door that didn't have a sign, so Harry guessed it was probably Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's room. He heard light snores coming from it.

They went up a narrow flight of stairs until they got to the fifth landing where another door said, "Ronald's Room." After Ron opened the door, they both walked in. There was a bed covered in a Chudley Cannons bedspread against the wall to the left. Above the bed were some Chudley Cannons posters. There was a small bookcase next to the window, which was opposite the door. On the bookcase were comics called _The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the mad Muggle_, a pack of self-shuffling playing cards, an old set of Wizard's Chess, and on the bottom shelf was a tank with a large frog in it. In the furthest corner on the right was a cot with Harry's trunk next to it.

"That cot's yours," said Ron, pointing to the one in the corner. He sat down at the edge of his bed. "Well, this is my room. It's not much. Probably nothing compared to Draco Malfoy's room or house."

Harry looked over at Ron, who was looking at him. "Honestly, that doesn't matter. Yes, he has a big house, but that never makes anyone happy," he said, still standing.

"So you're saying Malfoy isn't happy?" Ron asked.

"Err…yeah."

"Good! He deserves not to be happy!" Ron said.

The anger Harry knew Ron was holding in from what _he_ had done, was obviously being taken out on Draco. That's whom Harry had been staying with, so Ron was venting. That much was obvious.

"What has he ever done, Ron?" Harry asked. There were giggles coming from the hall, but neither Ron nor Harry heard them. "He's a kid, just like us."

"He called Hermione a – well, you know," said Ron, now standing also. "That's what he did! And you know very well that—"

They both turned when the door opened. Hermione and Ron's little sister, Ginny, walked into the room, laughing. The two girls realized that something was wrong, and the smiles disappeared from their faces.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked without welcoming Harry.

"Harry here is defending that git Malfoy," said Ron, looking at Harry.

"He's not a git!" Harry said. "You don't know him!"

"I don't want to know him!" Ron exclaimed, his face getting red. "And I doubt Hermione would want to either after what he called her!"

"Stop it both of you!" Hermione said. "Harry just got here, and already you're fighting?"

"Ron, just calm down," said Ginny, walking over to put her hand on his shoulder as if steadying him. She was blushing slightly, and wouldn't look Harry in the eye, but he was so frustrated by Ron, he didn't notice.

There was silence for a few moments as Ron sat down on his bed. Ginny stood next to him, and Hermione stood near Ginny. Harry, on the other hand, stood on the other side of the room, looking at the others.

Harry didn't want to think that coming to the Burrow was a mistake, but he was starting to. He wouldn't want to be there if he was going to be constantly fighting with Ron and his family and Hermione. He'd rather be with Draco, hanging out and playing Quidditch. But he just sat down on his bed, looking at the floor.

There were a few moments of near silence. Ginny murmured a few things to Ron, telling him to calm down. Hermione just paced slightly. Harry finally decided to say something. He knew he hadn't really started the fight, but wanted to resolve it anyway.

"I'm sorry, Ron," he said above a whisper. "I was…out of line."

"That's right y—Ouch!" exclaimed Ron. Someone must've stepped on his foot because he then said, "I'm sorry, too." Harry picked up his head to look at Ron.

"_Now_ is everything okay?" Hermione asked, slightly annoyed. No one said anything, but everyone understood that it was. "Good. Harry, Mrs. Weasley wanted me to tell you she made you something to eat."

Harry nodded as he stood up. He already had dinner, but the distress of having fought with Ron made him suddenly very hungry. Without saying anything, they all left Ron's room and went downstairs. Halfway down they heard some sort of explosion coming from the twins' bedroom and laughing.

------------------------------

After Harry had eaten a sandwich made by Mrs. Weasley, he and Ron were finally on better terms to talk. They talked about nothing in particular as they played a round of Exploding Snap in the sitting room; Hermione read a thick book and Ginny laid on the floor, doing some sort of puzzle. Every now and then, they heard another explosion from the twin's bedroom and Mrs. Weasley would go up to yell at them. Ron told Harry that Percy was in his room, writing letters though no one was sure why or to whom.

"Fred and George tried to sneak in to see who he was writing to, but Percy caught them and told my mum," said Ron as laughed. "I thought it was hilarious."

"That's not very funny, Ron," said Hermione. "Percy should have privacy."

"Privacy?" laughed Ron. Ginny was even giggling a little. "There's no privacy at our house. Not with Fred and George around. You'll get used to it, Hermione."

At one point, Mr. Weasley came down the stairs, looking tired. "Molly, is there any water in the teapot? I think I'm going to make myself some coffee," he said. Then he spotted Harry sitting opposite Ron. "Oh, hello!"

Harry stood to shake Mr. Weasley's hand. "What's your name?" the man asked.

"Harry."

"Harry Potter?" asked Mr. Weasley, his eyes widening slightly. When Harry nodded, he said, "I remember your parents. Good people."

"Thank you, sir," said Harry as he smiled.

Mr. Weasley laughed a little. "There's no need to call me 'sir,' Harry," he said kindly. He then yawned widely. Mr. Weasley said to no one in particular, "There's always too much paperwork. I'm gonna get some coffee."

Mr. Weasley went into the kitchen and Harry sat down to finish the game. "I like your dad, Ron. He's really nice."

"Thanks," said Ron. "How was Mr. Malfoy then?"

"He was nice, but there was something about him…I can't explain it," said Harry.

"_Something evil?_" Ron said under his breath, but Harry heard.

"Now that you mention it…sort of," said Harry.

Hermione and Ginny, interested, got up and sat next to them to hear. He noticed that Ron's little sister blushed when she got near him, and was about to sit next to him, but seemed to think better of it and sat down next to her brother. Harry glanced at the kitchen and then continued, "Last night while I was there, I overheard Mr. Malfoy and a man named Rookwood talking about Voldemort."

The others gasped aloud at Harry saying the name. "Don't say that! What's wrong with you?" Ron said, incredulous that he could say such a thing.

"Nothing. I'm just not afraid of a name. Dumbledore says it, too," said Harry. Hermione nodded as if Harry had made a good point. "Anyway, they were talking about _him_. Mr. Malfoy was saying that he thinks he'll be back in a couple of years."

"But how could he know such a thing?" Hermione asked. "How could he know when he'll be back?"

"Rookwood asked the same thing, but Mr. Malfoy wasn't sure. He just suspects he will because he's one of the most powerful wizards ever known," said Harry.

"Rubbish! Dumbledore is the most powerful and the greatest wizard ever known," said Ron. "Everyone knows that."

There was no doubt in Harry's mind that Dumbledore was the greatest wizard ever, but the mention of his name brought back the memory of being in the Hospital Wing with him, and how they had talked about what Harry had seen in the Mirror of Erised. He remembered the feeling of being closed off from Dumbledore, like there was some sort of barrier between them. But he tried to push the thought aside for now.

"I know," said Harry. "They said that if he does come back, they'd join him again."

"Again?" asked Hermione, looking at Harry. "That would mean they were already Death Eaters."

"My dad guessed that Mr. Malfoy was one!" exclaimed Ron, as Ginny nodded.

"Well, he was right," said Harry.

"We can send him to prison!" Ron said, almost beaming.

Both Harry and Hermione turned toward Ron, but for different reasons. He couldn't have his best friend's father put into prison because he told the Weasley's and Hermione that he was a Death Eater. He would lose Draco as a friend indefinitely.

Hermione, on the other hand, had been thinking something else and voiced it. "There's no evidence that he is or ever was a Death Eater, Ron. If you're dad goes to the Ministry, it will make _him_ look like an idiot, not Mr. Malfoy."

"She's got a point," said Ginny for the first time. "I don't want dad to be embarrassed because you told him something he can't prove, Ron."

"I didn't actually mean to tell him. I was just saying," said Ron, slightly embarrassed and slightly angry.

"They also spoke about me and how I faced Voldemort again," said Harry. They all gasped again, but he just gave them a look. "Didn't think I'd survive a second time, I guess."

"If I knew You-Know-Who was in there, I'd never've told you to go," said Hermione, sounding slightly upset. "I had no idea."

"Nor did I, Hermione," said Harry comfortingly. "It's okay."

Hermione nodded and then said, "Mr. Malfoy and the other former Death Eaters must have thought the first time was pure luck. They must've thought that this time you…well, that you wouldn't make it."

"But I did," said Harry with some defiance. "I don't give up _that_ easily."

A/N: If you're wondering what the light snoring was, it was Mr. Weasley. I came up with a small back-story of him doing paperwork for his job, but then falling asleep.

**

* * *

Preview of Chapter 8—Not Rotten: **

Harry's time at the Burrow is very enjoyable, although he sometimes feels weird about being a Slytherin, but after he doesn't hear from Draco for a while, he begins to have nightmares about Draco because of what he was told about Mr. Malfoy…


	8. Not Rotton

"There is nothing like a dream to create the future."

-Victor Hugo

**Warning: Some abuse! If you feel a connection to it and don't want to read it, don't! I would feel horrible if I caused emotional scarring. But I'll add that the only part that has abuse is at the end, so the beginning is safe. I have added an additional warning telling you all when it begins.**

A/N: Possibly one of the longest chapters I've ever written! Enjoy!

**8**

**Not Rotten**

Three hours later, Harry and the others found themselves in bed. He was happy the Weasley's hadn't thrown him out of their home. The fight earlier had him thinking they might, though he doubted they would actually throw him out into the street. He had nowhere to go. Harry hoped that a fight like the one earlier wouldn't happen again; that everything would be fine for the rest of the summer.

After some more thinking about the rest of the summer, he drifted into a deep slumber.

Harry could vaguely remember dreaming about flying on his broom over the Dursley's house, saying that he hated them with his every being. Then he could've sworn he heard a loud explosion coming within 4 Privet Drive, but was suddenly awoken.

There was another explosion coming from downstairs of the Burrow, shaking his bed slightly. Harry grabbed his glasses from the windowsill and, still in his green-striped pajamas, ran to the door. He saw that Ron was no longer in his bed as he swung the door open.

The others were standing in the doorway of Fred and George's room. Mrs. Weasley was further in the room, her hands on her hips. "I've told you at least a hundred times that these experiments of yours can be dangerous! Imagine if your little sister, Ginny, got hurt from something stupid that you two created and accidentally left around the house? _What then?_" Mrs. Weasley was getting redder and redder in the face as she spoke.

"We never take our experiments or inventions out of our room," said Fred, trying to defend he and his brother.

"Oh! Really? I can think of a few good times when I've found one of your new inventions lying around the house," said Mrs. Weasley angrily. "Remember that time Percy put on those socks you had created and his legs turned blue?"

"I remember that," said George with a small smile.

"That was good, wasn't it?" Fred asked George with an even wider smile. George nodded and the both of them laughed.

"That's not funny, you two!" Mrs. Weasley shouted. "You're both helpless! And clean up this mess!" She then walked past Ron, Hermione, Percy, and Ginny to go downstairs, looking furious.

"What happened?" Harry asked Ron.

Ron said, "They were making something in a cauldron and whatever it was exploded. Fred and George are always doing stuff like this."

"Idiots," said Percy under his breath, but Hermione, Ron, and Harry heard. He moved past them and went into his room. Mrs. Weasley called to Ginny, who ran down the stairs, looking unhappy since she probably wanted to see the mess in Fred and George's room. The other three decided to go into the twin's bedroom.

There were two beds a couple feet from each other with a larger side table between them. A desk with a mess of parchment all over it was in the far left corner. All over the floor were large and small black burn marks. And there was a bookcase, which held the most random ingredients in jars and vials; some of those ingredients were also all over the floor, as well.

A cauldron sat between Fred and George, who were sitting in the middle of the room on the wooden floor. They were covered in a yellow gook that looked extremely thick, as it lay spattered all over the floor and all over Fred and George's face and clothes. And it spelled disgusting, like rotten eggs.

"Ugh," was Ron's reply as he saw the disgusting mess and the smell reached his nose. "No wonder mum got upset." He covered his nose with his hand as he sat down on one of the beds.

Both Fred and George got up, wiping the muck off their faces and putting it on their trousers. "Ah. We finally get to meet Harry," said Fred.

"Nice to meet you, Harry," said George, sticking out his hand.

"I'd shake your hand, but that yellow stuff doesn't like quite right," said Harry jokingly. "Well, I've seen you guys around school. I've heard the older Slytherin's talking about you two."

"Really? What'd they say?" said Fred, almost cheerful.

"Said you both are so good at pulling pranks, they wanted to curse you at times," said Harry.

"We'll take that as a compliment," said Fred with a smile.

"Well, watch your back," Harry said.

"We will," said George to him.

Harry had been looking at George that he hadn't realized Fred had moved over to Ron, putting his arm around Ron's head, so he was in a headlock. "Ouch! Get off me, Fred!" cried Ron.

"Sorry, can't. Not with you turning evil and all," said Fred. George laughed in the background.

"What're you talking about?" Ron asked, his head still clutched between Fred's arm and stomach.

"You've got a Slytherin friend. Next thing I know, you'll be marching with the Death Eaters," said Fred jokingly. "You could be going to the dark side, Ronald."

"Don't call me that!" said Ron; his face was now turning red from the odd position and slightly from embarrassment.

"Oh, come on! Let him go," said Hermione from near the door.

"Harry's a Slytherin, but he's not rotten. And I'm not becoming evil!" said Ron, his face really getting red.

"You swear?" Fred asked with a large grin on his face.

"Yeah, yeah, I swear!" Ron said. Fred let him go and he stumbled forward a little. "Fred, you git, you got that nasty stuff all over me, and that hurt!"

"It's brotherly love," said Fred with a smile.

"That's not how you show love," said Ron as he massaged his neck.

"Let's go wash this crap off," said George. "Bye, Ronald." And with that they left the room.

A couple minutes later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in the kitchen. Harry was still in his pajamas, but hadn't had any time to change. Ron had decided that he needed something to help his neck, but he must have thought Mrs. Weasley wouldn't be in the kitchen. Except she was and began asking questions about why Ron's neck was sore.

Ron didn't want to tell her, but she eventually forced it out of him, getting even more upset at Fred and George. Mrs. Weasley said, "And I bet that mess is still in their room! I'm making them clean it!"

As Ron held a warm washcloth around him neck and Mrs. Weasley made some sort of concoction to further help Ron, Harry decided it was a good time to get changed into normal clothing. Hermione said she wanted to go get a book and came with him.

She talked about the indecency of Fred and George to do what they did to Ron from the first to third landing. But then Harry stopped her and voiced something that had been bothering him. "You know, not all Slytherin's are evil."

Hermione turned to look at him. "Harry, we all know that. No one's saying that _you're _evil or anything, it's just—the other people. Most of _them_ are," she said slowly and with some seriousness. Hermione opened the door marked "Ginny's Room" and walked in.

Harry continued on, making his way up two more small flights of stairs. After he had dressed and was walking back down past the twin's room, he heard Mrs. Weasley within. She was telling Fred and George to clean the mess they had made, and that they wouldn't get food until they had.

When he walked into the kitchen, he found it empty, so he walked into the sitting room. Ron, the cloth still around him neck, was trying to get Hermione to play Chess with him. She was, sitting, reading the book from yesterday. "Come on, Hermione." Then Ron saw Harry. "Harry'll play Chess with me, won't you, Harry?" he asked. "I'd rather practice Quidditch, but my mum says that's a bad idea because my neck is stiff."

"Yeah, I'll play," said Harry as he sat down. "Maybe we can practice Quidditch tomorrow."

After a couple moves on both sides, Ron said, "The fact that Fred and George know we're friends, honestly, scares me. I know their going to tease me."

"Oh, calm down. It'll be fine," said Hermione, looking up from her book.

Ron turned to look at her. "That's easy for you to say. You don't have brothers like Fred and George."

------------------------------

The next couple days were so wonderful and sunny; the sky outside was such a light blue and there were no clouds in the sky. It wasn't as hot as it had been before, and a light breeze even blew past them every so often. Mrs. Weasley had decided they should eat lunch and dinner outside everyday it remained like this. And while she cooked her lavish meals, Harry and the others played Quidditch.

Fred and George may have had old brooms, but they were fantastic Quidditch players. Even Ginny was good on her broom, which looked like it might just fall apart. Ron, however, though he was okay on a broom, kept dropping the Quaffle to the ground. Percy joined in as Keeper, and even Hermione decided she didn't want to miss out on the fun, so she rode Charlie's old broom. She actually wasn't so bad – even though she stayed really close to the ground – but she said she just didn't fancy Quidditch playing.

They decided the teams would be Fred, Ginny, and Ron against George, Harry, and Percy with Hermione as someone who could help both sides. Ron and Percy were the Keepers and the others played Chasers.

"Ron, you keep dropping the Quaffle!" yelled Ginny, as she flew past George. She swooped down to pick up the Quaffle, and then threw it to Hermione. But then Ginny saw Harry looking at her and she blushed, flying away quickly to the other side.

"Sorry," muttered Ron, his ears turning slightly red.

Harry wasn't the best Chaser, but since the Weasley's only had a Quaffle, you were either Chaser or Keeper. They had two substitute goal posts, one on eithor side of their garden, of a basketball hoop, without the netting, attached to a wooden post.

Hermione just caught the Quaffle and then slowly flew toward the goal on Harry's right where Percy was defending. She looked slightly worried she would drop it or fall. Holding on tightly to the broom with her left hand, she threw the Quaffle with her right. It looked like a good shot, but George grabbed the ball before Percy had a chance to hit it away.

George threw the ball to Harry, who instantly caught it and flew in the direction of Ron, who looked somewhat scared. Fred was flying toward him, and was probably going to attempt to knock him off, but Harry swerved out of the way. When he was close enough, Harry locked his eyes on the goal and threw the ball straight ahead.

Fred shouted to Ron, "Knock it away!" But Ron didn't seem to hear him. As it came toward him, he moved slightly to the right, getting ready. But he made to hit it away at the wrong moment and it went into the surrogate goal.

George, Percy, Hermione, and Harry cheered. "Yes!" Harry exclaimed. He had never made a goal before. He usually just caught the Snitch. On the other end, Percy and George high-fived before landing. Ron looked almost devastated, but they played for another two hours after that goal. Ron eventually did knock the Quaffle away after George threw it, and was a lot happier at dinner that night.

They sat outside with the cool evening air around them, as they gathered around the Weasley table, which had been extended by magic to fit two more. Mrs. Weasley, with help from Ginny and Percy, brought out all the marvelous dishes of food. Harry sat between Ron and Hermione. Hermione sat next to Ginny, who was then sitting next to Mr. Weasley at the head of the table, who was sitting next to Mrs. Weasley, who was also sitting next to Fred and George and Percy, who was sitting at the other head of the table.

After Mrs. Weasley had finally sat down, they all dug in to the food. It smelled delightful and Harry piled large amounts of food onto his plate with glee. Everyone was talking and laughing, and it was overall a very warm and pleasant setting.

In the middle of dinner, Fred and George had put a couple of cockroaches into Percy's food, but at first he didn't notice. A minute later, he let out a loud scream and everyone turned to him. One of the roaches that had fallen off his plate was now inching toward Harry's.

Percy gave Fred and George dark looks as Mrs. Weasley came over, wand in hand. "Oh, for heavens sake!" She got rid the "nasty little buggers" (as Ron had called them) with a flick and the chatter continued. Harry could hear Fred and George laughing about it across from him.

Every now and then, Mr. Weasley asked him about some sort of Muggle contraption since he had found out Harry lived with Muggles. They spoke for a while about light bulbs and how they worked. Mr. Weasley, oddly enough, seemed overly-interested, but he didn't mind the questions or answering them.

The conversation, towards the end of dinner, had turned to the new school year. Ginny said she was nervous about going to Hogwarts, but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley assured her that there was nothing to be nervous about. But the talk about Hogwarts reminded him of what Dobby had told him about the Chamber of Secrets. Harry had to tell Ron and Hermione about what it as soon as dinner was over.

Half an hour later, the three of them were now inside Ron's unorganized room. They all crammed on Ron's little bed, so none of them would have to sit on the floor. Ron sat on his pillow, Hermione leaned against the wall as her legs hung over the side, and Harry sat cross-legged on the end, trying not to fall off.

"What is it you wanted to tell us?" Ron asked curiously.

"Well, the Malfoy's house elf Dobby told me about something called the Chamber of Secrets," said Harry. "He was really bothered by it and—"

"The Chamber of Secrets?" Hermione asked; her face was scrunched up in thought.

"Have you heard of it?" Harry asked, leaning forward a little.

"I remember reading about it. I just can't remember what it is," said Hermione.

Suddenly, Hermione jumped off the bed. Without an explanation, she wrenched open the door and left the room at a sprint. Ron and Harry gave each other puzzled looks. A minute later, however, Hermione was back inside the room, sitting with a large book in her lap.

"_What_ is that?" Ron asked as if the book were some horrible object.

"This is a book, Ron. It's something you read," said Hermione somewhat sarcastically as she looked at Ron.

Harry chuckled a little, but then looked at the cover of the book. " '_Hogwarts, A History_'?" he asked.

"Yes. I could've sworn I read something about the Chamber of Secrets in here. Let me see," she said as she casually flipped through the book. "Aha! Here it is.

" 'The Chamber of Secrets is a theoretical chamber that was built by Salazar Slytherin, one of the four founders of Hogwarts, in an unknown year. It is said that Slytherin built the chamber after having disagreements with the three other founders, Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, and Rowena Ravenclaw, about which students should be let into the school. Slytherin believed that only students of magical families should be allowed to be taught at Hogwarts whereas the other founders believed all students, whether coming from magical family or not, should be allowed to enter.

" 'After having built the Chamber, it is said that Slytherin then put a horrible monster within, so that when his heir finally arrived at the school, only he or she could control it. The monster supposedly would be able to do the job that Slytherin had never been able to: rid the school of Muggle-borns once and for all. Slytherin eventually left the school when agreements could not be made.'"

"Um…what 'horrible monster' are we talking about here? Something along the lines of a dragon?" Ron asked.

"By the looks of it, something much worse than a dragon," said Harry. "Besides, dragons don't even target Muggle-borns."

"I doubt the monster actually targets anyone naturally. The book says the heir can control the monster, so the monster targets certain people according to what the heir of Slytherin wants," explained Hermione.

"But the book wasn't definite that the Chamber even existed. It said 'the Chamber of Secrets is a _theoretical_ chamber that was built by Salazar Slytherin.' Theoretical being the key word here," said Harry.

"That's true," replied Hermione. "But if Dobby is worried about it, maybe it isn't theoretical; maybe it actually exists."

"Perhaps Mr. Malfoy was talking about the Chamber of Secrets and Dobby overheard him," said Ron.

"But why would Mr. Malfoy be talking about the Chamber of Secrets?" Harry asked.

"Well, Dobby had to have heard it from someone," said Hermione. "I'm not saying he necessarily heard it from him, but it seems likely. I doubt Dobby ever really leaves the Malfoy estate."

"So Dobby really thinks this Chamber is going to be opened or something?" Ron asked curiously.

"Yeah, he does," said Harry. "He wanted me to go back to the Dursley's. He kept saying Hogwarts isn't safe. He said…people might die."

Hermione put her hands over her mouth and Ron gasped. "You think so?" he asked.

Harry looked at the others with a seriousness. "Well, how else do you think Slytherin's monster is supposed to rid the school of Muggle-borns? It's certainly not going to put them back on the Hogwarts express. You better be careful, Hermione."

------------------------------

As he searched for something clean to wear, he found his Conglomerate Stone in the pocket of the cloak he had worn when he had left Malfoy Manor. He took the Stone out and held it. It felt like nothing, like a feather.

Ron was snoring lightly in his sleep and turned over to face away from Harry. His friend's room was a lot dimmer than usual since the curtains were drawn. He stood up, Stone in hand, with a purpose in mind. He was sure Mrs. Weasley would be downstairs already.

And he was right. Mrs. Weasley was making breakfast on the counter as she sang along with the wireless that was sitting on the counter next to the food. The windows were open, bringing in tons of warm light.

"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said.

"Good morning, Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley replied. She turned to look at him with a smile on her face, and then motioned to the table. "Help yourself to some pumpkin juice."

"Mrs. Weasley?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Since I can't use magic, I was wondering if you could add the Burrow to my Conglomerate Stone," said Harry. But the way he said it was more like a question.

Mrs. Weasley turned, wiping her hands on a white and blue striped washcloth. "Yes, of course," she said. She grabbed her wand from the counter, and then Harry handed the Stone to her. "Which color, dear?"

"Err…orange," replied Harry. Orange was a bright color and the Burrow was a very bright place.

The transparent orange stone – "_The Burrow!_" – turned opaque. Harry placed it into his pocket after she handed it back to him.

"Sit and have a blueberry muffin as I finish making the rest of breakfast," said Mrs. Weasley kindly. He sat down and took a bite of the warm muffin.

-----------------------------------

**Abuse Warning!**

A week later. Harry had enjoyed every moment of being at the Burrow. No more fights had arisen between he and Ron or anyone else in the Weasley family. He was perfectly fine. The only problem was Draco.

Harry hadn't heard from him since he had left, which had been over two weeks ago, and he was beginning to get worried. He didn't think anything was especially wrong, but he was still wary.

He had awoken for the third time in three days from the horrible dream about Mr. Malfoy and Draco…

_"What have I always told you?!" Mr. Malfoy asked furiously._

_Draco was standing opposite his father inside his green wall-papered room. He looked frightened by his father, who looked intimidating and terrifying. "That…that Mudbloods are dirt. They are nothing, sir," said Draco, his hands shaking._

_"But what were you doing?" asked Mr. Malfoy. His body seemed to swell with every word. He was growing taller. "You were meeting with a Mudblood! With that dirt named Granger!"_

_"No, father!" Draco tried. "I would never!"_

_Mr. Malfoy's head was now close to touching the ceiling of Draco's room. Mr. Malfoy slapped his son hard across the face, first on the right cheek and then on the left. Red marks were left behind. Draco fell backwards onto the floor, his hands went instinctively up to his face._

_Harry felt, as he saw this all from the corner of the room, not only invisible, but like he couldn't do a thing to stop what was going on – he felt completely powerless._

_"I don't want to see you talking to her ever again unless what you're saying happens to be insults! Do you understand me?!" Mr. Malfoy screamed. He was leaning over Draco with a murderous glint in his eyes. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"_

_Draco was whimpering slightly and it was obvious he was holding back tears. The boy sitting on the floor was trying to nod, but he was shaking too much. Mr. Malfoy pulled his right hand back into a fist, and Draco let out a whimper, knowing what was going to happen next._

_The punch hit Draco brutally in the left eye and he was forced sideways, so that he lay on the ground. He couldn't hold back any more and let the tears go freely, but still made no sound. He brought his legs up closer to him, almost in a fetal position, as he put his hands up to his face. His eye was starting to swell and turn purple._

_Mr. Malfoy walked to the door, no remorse showing on his face. After opening it, he turned to Draco and said, "Let that be a lesson to you." He slammed the door loudly. Afterwards, Draco began to sob noisily as he lay on the floor…_

Harry awoke from the same dream he had already had twice. He was sweating profusely and wiped it away lazily with his pajama-sleeve. He put on his glasses and checked his watch. It was just after twelve am. He had only been asleep for a little more than an hour.

But having the dream again was the last straw. He hadn't heard from Draco in weeks and he couldn't help but wonder if his best friend was safe and sound or not. Harry knew that he could get to Malfoy Manor and back to the Burrow with his Conglomerate Stone, but what if Ron woke and noticed he was gone? He would certainly tell Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Should he risk it?

Harry could barely see Ron in the darkness, but he could hear him mumbling in his sleep about spiders. He didn't think Ron would be up and about any time soon. So, after rummaging through his trunk to find his trusty Conglomerate Stone and Hand of Glory, he put on a simple, black robe.

When he was ready, he took the lit candle from the windowsill and lit the wick of the candle in the Hand of Glory, before placing it back. Harry held the Stone in his left hand, putting the Hand of Glory between his left arm and stomach, so his right hand was free.

Harry touched the gray stone in the dark of Ron's room. He felt the peculiar sensations of being pulled at every part of his body and his feet left the floor-boarded ground…

**A/N:** Just so you know, I post updates on my profile, which you can check every now and then to see what's going on. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter.

**

* * *

Preview of Chapter 9—Malfoy's Have No Friends: **

Harry gets into Malfoy Manor and doesn't like what he hears between Draco and Mr. Malfoy…


	9. Malfoy's Have No Friends

"Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do so, you apologize for the truth."

-Benjamin Disraeli

**9**

**Malfoy's Have No Friends**

Now, he was surrounded by, not posters of the Chudley Cannons, but by the night sky, the large lake that stood to his right, by tons of trees, and the manor that stood tall before him. The cool summer night air was blowing softly at him as Harry stood a couple of steps before Manor Manor's black front door. The two gargoyles on either side seemed to be watching him with cold eyes.

He put his Conglomerate Stone in his right cloak pocket, holding his Hand of Glory tightly in his left hand now.

Harry knew that if he went closer to the front door, the manor would alert the people inside that someone was there, but he didn't want Mr. Malfoy to know he was there. He just wanted to talk to Draco, to see how he was.

He went down a bunch of steps, knowing that Draco's room was in the front on the right side. Through the large oriel window, Harry could see the torches still alit inside. Draco was still awake.

Without further ado, Harry went down the rest of the steps. The plan of going around the back and in through the back door was clear in his mind. He just hadn't thought of the fact that it might be locked.

The narrow path that led from the gate, went also into the back through a thicket of trees and right under the tower on the left side of the manor. He held the Hand of Glory in front of him to see the path through numerous branches and roots. Five minutes later, he was in the back of the manor.

No candles or torches were lit on the ground floor. None that Harry could see through the windows anyway. But there was some light coming from a window on the first floor on the right side. Next to that window was a door, which led to a landing. It was obviously Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy's room.

Harry went to the French back doors, which led to into the Ballroom. He tried the doorknobs, but they wouldn't budge. Why hadn't he thought earlier that the doors might be locked? Now what was he going to do?

He tapped quietly on the door, but loud enough for someone nearby to hear. "Dobby. Dobby. Dobby!"

There was a small "pop" on the other side of the door. Half illuminated by the Hand of Glory and half in shadow of the dark room was Dobby.

"Harry Potter, sir!" said Dobby. He inched forward, looking at Harry with big eyes. "What is Harry Potter doing here?"

"Let me in, Dobby. I just want to talk to Draco."

"Harry Potter doesn't want to talk to young master at this time, sir," replied Dobby from the other side of the door, looking slightly troubled.

"Why, Dobby? What's wrong? Let me in!"

"If Harry Potter insists," said Dobby quietly. The creature before him reached for the lock and Harry heard a click. Harry grabbed at the handle and turned it, making his way inside. Dobby followed him.

Perhaps at a better time, Harry would have looked around the beautiful ballroom he was walking quickly through, but he didn't want to waste time.

"Dobby isn't sure Harry Potter wants to go to young master's room at the moment," said Dobby quietly.

They left the ballroom and were now in the hallway, which led to numerous rooms. But he went to the left, going to the set of stairs that went up to the next floor.

"Why not, Dobby? What's going on?" he asked, but he got no response. Dobby just started to whimper and bang his fists against his large head.

A couple steps up, Harry heard a deep voice yell something, but couldn't make out the words. He ran up the stairs at top speed, Dobby following right behind him. The sound was coming from Draco's room; the door was slightly ajar and light was flooding out. He ran quickly to the left and stood in front of Draco's door. He was about to wrench it open, but stopped when he heard his name.

"Potter is not your friend!" yelled Mr. Malfoy. There was anger in his voice, but also something else, something Harry couldn't quite place.

"Yes, he is, father! He's my best friend!" said Draco loudly back, though not as loud as his father.

"Malfoy's don't have _friends_, Draco!" said Mr. Malfoy. "We have alliances and allegiances, but we do _not_ have friends!"

There was a pause in Mr. Malfoy's words. Harry moved slowly closer to the door as he listened intently. He looked quickly behind him to see Dobby, looking nervous. Harry felt the same.

"I'm glad you're an acquaintance of Potter's. Although I didn't expect him to be in Slytherin, I'm pleased he is. I presumed he'd be in Gryffindor," said Mr. Malfoy, more calmly. "But I didn't intend for you to get close to Potter. Remember what I told you. Remember that you—"

"But, father—!"

"Quiet! You'll do as you're told," said Mr. Malfoy firmly.

"Y-yes, father," Draco said quietly.

There were a couple moments of silence before Mr. Malfoy said, "I need this to play out correctly, Draco. Do you understand me? DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

"Yes, father," Draco said, almost inaudibly.

Harry moved quietly, so that he could see through the slightly open door. Mr. Malfoy, clad in his usual black cloak and holding his cane, was at an angle to Harry; most of Mr. Malfoy's back was to him, but Harry could see part of Mr. Malfoy's angry face. Draco, looking panicky with his hair a mess, was somewhat facing Harry; he was leaning against his desk to get as far away from his father as he could.

Harry watched awe-stricken. He had never seen Mr. Malfoy angry like this. So this is what Draco meant when he said his father got worse and became different.

"I will _not_ have you ruin my plans! You _will_ listen and do everything that I ask of you! Do I make myself clear? _DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?_"

"Yes, father. Of course," Draco said, his voice trembling.

Mr. Malfoy walked almost gracefully with his head held high toward Draco, who tried to press himself against the desk, probably hoping he would just disappear. Mr. Malfoy pushed some of his long hair over his shoulder with his right hand before suddenly gripping the collar of Draco's robes.

Harry involuntarily jerked from watching Mr. Malfoy's sudden movement. He reached into the pocket of his robe, knowing that his wand was there. He held the Hand of Glory tightly as he watched the man who had given him the gift.

Harry had forgotten that Dobby was standing behind him, but he didn't want to turn away from what he was seeing. Besides, he didn't have to look at Dobby to know he was still there. He could hear little whimpers coming from the creature near him.

Mr. Malfoy was looking at his son with an odd concentration. Draco was looking back at his father, but a look of extreme apprehension and worry was written all over his face. His eyes were widened and his bottom lip was quivering slightly.

"My dear son. Maybe you'll soon realize that in life, you don't get very far with simple _friends_," Mr. Malfoy said coldly. "You need powerful allies; people that will help you to become great and powerful. I've found those people, and I do hope you find them as well."

The way Mr. Malfoy had said that, he seemed finished with his son, and also like he couldn't stand to look at him, much less hold him by the collar any longer. So, he threw his son to the floor. He didn't seem to use a lot of strength, but Draco hit the floor hard with a thud.

Mr. Malfoy turned away and began walking toward the door. That's when Harry realized that he had to move or Draco's father would see him. Harry had no idea what Mr. Malfoy would do to him if he saw him, but he didn't want to find out.

Dobby was still there. Harry said quietly, "Dobby. Master." A look of alarm came over the creature and he was gone instantly with a "pop." Quickly but quietly, Harry ran to the back stairs, hoping Mr. Malfoy would be taking the main one. He peeked his head out as he subconsciously held his breath, to see Mr. Malfoy walk proudly down the hall away from him.

When he had turned the corner and was finally out of sight, Harry felt he was able to breath once more. He stole out of his hiding place and walked down the hall towards Draco's room.

The door had been pushed almost all the way open by Mr. Malfoy's leaving, so Harry could see completely into the room now. He walked in slowly. It looked like no one was there, but the dark green curtains were drawn at the large oriel window, so Harry suspected that Draco might be sitting on the cushion, looking out.

As he walked nearer to the window, he said, "Draco?"

Harry heard Draco laugh slightly to himself and then say distraughtly, "Great! Now I'm hearing Harry's voice in my head!"

"Draco, you're not hearing things."

The curtains flew open and out jumped Draco. His neck was slightly red from where his father had grabbed his collar. He was also looking a lot paler than usual and seemed almost at the point of tears.

Draco looked at Harry with alarm, and then ran to close the door. When he had, he turned back. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked hurriedly as he walked forward. "Does my father know you're here?"

"No," said Harry slowly. He looked at his friend with worry. "I just came here to see how you were doing. I haven't heard from you since I left."

"Well, as much as I want you to stay, Harry, you have to leave."

"Why do I have to leave?" Harry asked.

"My father, he—he…" Just in a matter of seconds, Draco seemed to grow steadily paler in the face.

"Draco, just calm down."

Harry pulled the chair out from under the desk, and then motioned for his best friend to sit. He then moved to stand in front of Draco, who was now looking at the floor.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

Draco said and did nothing.

"I'm your friend, Draco." But those were the wrong words to say. They seemed to hit an invisible nerve in Draco, and he straightened up in his chair.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm completely fine," Draco said quickly.

"You don't look like it to me."

"I am fine! And if you don't believe me, you can get out of my house!" exclaimed Draco as he stood up.

Harry took a step back from him. There was a pause where neither of them said anything to the other. Harry was watching Draco. Draco was looking at the floor, his chest heaving slightly as he breathed heavily.

"How did you even get here?" said Draco after a minute.

"Conglomerate Stone," Harry replied, still keeping an eye on his friend. "But don't change the subject. What's wrong? Is it your father?" He said the latter slowly and with care.

Harry wanted Draco to tell him what had been going on just minutes before. He hadn't understood everything that had been said and wanted to know, but he couldn't just come out and say that he had heard the conversation. For one, that was a disrespect of privacy, and it also didn't say good things about the person who listened at doors.

Draco turned to him, looking angry and bothered. "I don't want to talk about it! I can't just open up! I've kept everything bottled up since I can remember, and I like it that way! Okay? Now, get the hell out!"

"But—"

"Just get the hell out of here, Harry!"

Harry and Draco locked eyes for a moment; Harry's worried, Draco's angry.

Without another word, Harry walked away from his friend. He grabbed the handle of the door, pulled it open, and then slammed it shut. But he just stopped after closing the door, breathing fairly quickly. Harry, hand still on the doorknob, just stared at the floor. Light was coming from under the crack of the door, illuminating part of his worn-out trainers.

Something, in the room, was thrown against the opposite wall, where it shattered. Harry then heard the airy and metal-spring sound of Draco plopping onto his bed. He could also make out the sound of Draco crying lightly.

Thinking he'd had enough for one night, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out his Conglomerate Stone. He touched the orange stone and seconds later found himself in the Weasley's kitchen.

-----------------------------

"Don't forget your letters!" called the voice of Mrs. Weasley to everyone. Harry was getting ready for the day trip to Diagon Alley since their letters had arrived yesterday. He and Ron were both getting ready, putting on some simple black robes over their t-shirts and jeans.

"Ready?" Ron asked from the doorway. Harry buttoned his robe, grabbed a canvas messenger map, and then followed Ron out of the door.

The Weasley's and Hermione were already in the sitting room, deciding where they were going to go first. Mr. Weasley was holding a bowl of white powder Harry recognized as Floo Powder. "Have you traveled by Floo Powder before, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Only once," said Harry.

"Then I'll go first to refresh your memory," said Mr. Weasley.

"Good idea," said Mrs. Weasley. She took the bowl from Mr. Weasley, who then reached in and grabbed some of the powder.

Once Mr. Weasley stood in the fireplace, he threw the powder at the floor from which green flames immediately bellowed. He said clearly, "Diagon Alley!" The flames seemed to engulf Mr. Weasley, who disappeared.

"Ron, you next," said Mrs. Weasley. Harry watched as his red-headed friend disappeared amongst the bright green flames. "Your turn, Harry."

He grabbed some of the powder in his right hand and walked into the fireplace. The other Weasley's were watching him as he threw the powder down. Nonetheless, Harry said quite clearly, "Diagon Alley!" He felt the warm, green flames all around his body as he traveled to the bustling alley.

**

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Preview of Chapter 10—Eye of the Beholder: **

A day in Diagon Alley with the Weasley's, but the day doesn't turn out so well when Draco shows up…


	10. Eye of the Beholder

"Remember…beholding beauty with the eye of the mind, he will be enabled to bring forth, not images of beauty, but realities…"

-Plato

**10**

**Eye of the Beholder**

A whirlwind of color was around Harry as he traveled by Floo Powder to Diagon Alley. He finally landed in another fireplace; Harry looked around and saw Ron and Mr. Weasley waiting for him. After the rest of the Weasley's and Hermione followed, they left the Leakey Cauldron, which is where they had landed. Fred and George met up with their friends and set off.

The day of shopping began.

First stop: Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions. The bunch of them walked into the shop. Harry desperately needed new robes. His first year robes were too short for him – they showed too much of his wrists and showed too much of his ankles. He was happy to be getting new ones, so he wouldn't look like an idiot at school.

There were tons of people around outside in the stifling heat, constantly running into him, which didn't help. When he got to the store, he was pleased to be inside, where it was a lot cooler.

A small woman wearing mauve robes came toward the group of them. She told Harry, Ron, and Hermione to go stand in front of the three separate full-length mirrors, which were next to each other. Harry saw the bottom of his robes didn't touch his shoes, but it was still the longest cloak he owned. He turned to Ron, who was much worse off than him since he had grown a lot more, and saw that his robes stopped way above his ankle. He chuckled to himself at the sight, but no one heard.

The woman came to Harry after first going to Hermione and Ron. "Gryffindor robes, dear?" she asked politely, giving him a nice smile.

"No. Slytherin," said Harry.

"Oh," the woman said before walking away to get a cloak.

A couple minutes later, Harry found himself being fitted by the woman as Ron and Hermione stood near him because they had already been fitted. He could feel her pulling occasionally at the bottom as she pinned. Harry looked at the front of his robes and picked up the fabric, looking at the Slytherin chest patch. The Slytherin snake was stared back with bright green eyes.

When Harry looked up, he found Ron and Hermione looking at the Slytherin patch, too. Upon their robes was the Gryffindor lion. He turned away, feeling uncomfortable –feeling different.

The next couple minutes were spent staring into the mirror opposite him. He watched as the woman at his feet fitted the robes. She had some pins in her mouth as she stared intently at the black cloak Harry was wearing, the Slytherin crest upon it.

--------------------------

The next store they had to go to was to the left: Flourish and Blotts. It wasn't particularly crowded, but there were a good number of people inside. Harry went off with Ron and Hermione to find the books on their list, away from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

Harry looked at the list of books he had to find.

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ by Miranda Goshawk

_A History of Magic, Level 2_ by Bathilda Bagshot

_Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch

_Herbology: The Many Magical Herbs_ by Phyllida Spore

_Potions & Their Ingredients_ by Arsenius Jigger

_How To Protect Oneself Against the Dark Arts_ by Quentin Trimble

Hermione seemed to find every book on the list and then some while Harry and Ron had been talking about Quidditch. "Hermione, at least try to be lazy like the rest of us," Harry joked.

"There's no problem with wanting to read," said Hermione.

"I see a problem," said Ron. "You actually _want_ to read."

It seemed that whilst talking, Ron and Hermione had both succeeded in getting their books, while Harry only had two on the list. He walked off to get the rest of them, leaving them to their debate of when was the best time to do homework. Hermione thought it was best to do it right away, while Ron thought it was best to wait…awhile.

As Harry stood in front of a large bookcase, looking for The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Two, he heard his name being called. "Harry!" called a familiar voice. He turned, holding the book, to see Draco walking toward him. "How did you get—?"

Just then Ron called his name as he came over with Hermione.

Draco looked at Ron and Hermione. Things obviously clicked in his mind, and he turned quickly back to Harry. "You came here with _them_?" Draco asked skeptically as he looked the two over with disgust.

"Yes. They brought me here," said Harry plainly.

"What are you looking at, Weasel?" Draco said to Ron with a sneer. Ron gave Draco a nasty look, but then turned to Harry. When Ron realized Harry wasn't going to defend him, disappointment appeared in his eyes as he pulled at Hermione's sleeve, and they walked away.

"Harry, I could've brought you here," said Draco, hurt in his voice, but it was gone immediately. "You didn't have to go with scum such as them." He nodded his head in the direction of Ron and Hermione.

"They are _not_ scum, Draco," stated Harry, looking him directly in the eye.

"They are to me," said Draco, his voice lowered. He moved away to the next shelf and picked up a book.

Harry closed the book he had in his hands with a thud, and looked around the shop to see where Ron and Hermione had gone. Instead of finding those two, he found Mr. Malfoy standing on the stairs, watching him. Mr. Malfoy stood there, chin raised slightly, as he looked at Harry with penetrating gray eyes.

Instantly, Harry knew Mr. Malfoy had heard the conversation between he and Draco. He felt his cheeks heat up, and a nervous feeling deep in the pit of his stomach sprang up. He turned away. On the shelf, he found a book he needed for the school year and then decided to cross the store to see if he could find another from the list.

When he had gotten all but two books from his list, he turned to see Mr. Malfoy talking to Ron's younger sister, Ginny. Harry knew Mr. Malfoy hated the Weasley's, so he walked a bit closer, curious as to what he could possibly have to say to her.

"Harry," said a voice behind him. Harry jumped slightly when he heard Draco's voice. His friend was holding a book open, like he was going to show Harry something.

"What's your father doing?" Harry interrupted. Draco saw and looked suddenly embarrassed, but didn't say a word. Mr. Malfoy walked away from the red-headed girl with books in his hands, and came toward the two boys standing there.

"Father, why were you talking to the Weasley girl?" Draco asked.

"It doesn't concern you, Draco," said Mr. Malfoy, handing Draco two books. He handed Harry the same two books, which, coincidentally, were the books he needed. Harry looked at the man curiously, but Mr. Malfoy just walked away.

They bought their books at the counter after waiting in line, and Harry stuffed the books into the canvas messenger bag he had brought along. He looked around the semi-crowded store in hopes of seeing the Weasley's and Hermione, but they were nowhere in sight. He suddenly knew they had left, figuring he would stay with Draco. But he had to go find them. He felt bad for going off with Draco instead of staying with them.

"I have more items to buy," said Harry in a rush to Draco, who was standing next to him. "Bye." But without waiting for a reply, he left.

Diagon Alley's swarming path didn't allow him to see the Weasley's. But then again, he had no idea when they had actually left Flourish and Blotts. He decided to check Quality Quidditch Supplies, but they weren't there.

Harry continued to search for them, hoping that they hadn't left for the Burrow yet. After fifteen minutes, it seemed that he had looked in every store in Diagon Alley. He stopped at where they had started: Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions. He was slightly out of breath and there were beads of sweat on his forehead.

After rolling up his sleeves into clumps around his elbows, Harry looked across the street to see a group of red-heads in Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Harry sighed, and then walked across the busy street to the shop.

The Weasley's and Hermione were standing at the counter, getting the ice cream they wanted. From behind, he could see that Hermione had already chosen French Vanilla. Mr. Weasley had Mint with little nuts all over it and Mrs. Weasley had Strawberry topped off with a cherry.

"What would you like?" Mr. Fortescue asked, from behind the counter. Ron was staring at all the different flavors, looking indecisive. Mr. Fortescue then saw Harry and asked, "And you?"

"Chocolate, please," said Harry.

They turned when they heard his voice, surprised he was there. Ron quickly muttered, "Double Fudge," and then walked over to Hermione.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked out of the shop first. Both Ron and Hermione were looking at him with some annoyance over the top of the ice cream-filled cones. They walked a couple paces, but he couldn't stand them staring at him anymore. "Okay, okay! I'm sorry," Harry said, stopping in his tracks. "I know I shouldn't have stayed with Draco."

"It's not that, Harry," said Hermione. Annoyance was clear in her voice. "It's the fact that Malfoy called Ron a Weasel, but you did nothing about it. You just stood there!"

"Well, I guess you both missed it when Draco called you scum, but I stood up for you! I said you weren't," said Harry. He was angry with them, even though he didn't really have a right to be since they hadn't heard what he had said in the bookstore. But he wanted to be. They had left him, too. "But I guess that doesn't matter. _Maybe_ I should've done nothing. _Maybe_ I should've just stood there, like _you_ would've thought me to."

Harry began to storm off. He was intending to go into the closest store, he didn't care which, just to get away from them for some time to cool down. But Hermione called after him. "Harry, wait!" He stopped.

Without turning around, Harry heard her say, "Thank you for standing up for us. We're sorry we left you at Flourish and Blotts."

"Sorry, mate. We thought you'd rather stay with Malfoy," said Ron. Harry turned to them and half-smiled. Ron's cheeks were red from the heat. They smiled back at him, and then began to walk through the crowded Diagon Alley.

"Pictures, pictures! Get your picture taken here!" yelled a friendly-looking man a couple minutes later. He was standing next to a large trolley with various containers full of different solutions, mostly off-white or almost yellow.

As they walked by, the man asked them if they wanted their picture taken, saying that it was a Galleon for the picture. Ron said that he didn't have that much, so Harry took out a golden coin, handing it to the man.

The slightly balding man told them to move a couple feet away. Harry stood in the middle, Hermione on his left, Ron on his right. They put there arms around each others shoulders as they smiled toward the camera.

Since it was a magical camera there were a series of several bright flashes, catching them as they laughed after Ron made a loud farting noise with his mouth. When the flashes were over, they were slightly blinded, but happy they had done it.

"Come back in an hour and your picture will be ready," said the man. Immediately after they walked away, they heard the man yelling for other people to have their picture taken.

Gambol and Japes was further down Diagon Alley. They bustled their way through a bunch of other witches and wizards before coming to the store. Once inside, they found Fred and George with their friend, Lee Jordan. It seemed they had been there for hours, looking through the items.

"Aha! A Slytherin! Harry, come here," said Fred, as he smiled and put his arm around Harry's shoulder casually. He was holding a bunch of Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks. "What do you recommend, my Slytherin friend?"

Sure, Harry was a Slytherin, but he hadn't pranked anyone before. He had gone with Blaise into Filch's Office and taken some stuff, but he hadn't used any of it yet. "Err…I'd say take a couple of those fireworks and Fanged Frisbees and whatever else you can find that way you can get a variety of tricks."

"You're a good man, Harry," said George with a mischievous smile. They walked away, getting more practical joke items.

--------------------------

In the street of Diagon Alley almost an hour later, Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley's were walking back to the Leaky Cauldron. The humidity that had hung in the air thickly earlier was, to some extent, gone since it was almost evening. A rare but welcomed breeze blew past him, ruffling his hair and went through his thin cloak soothingly.

Off of the street of Diagon Alley was the street of Knockturn Alley. Ron stopped to look down the dark alleyway. "Ever been down there?" Harry asked as he stopped, too.

Ron looked at him incredulously. "No. Mum's never allowed us to." He started to walk again, and Harry and Hermione followed.

Hermione turned to look at him, "But you have, haven't you?"

"How'd you know that?" asked Harry curiously.

"Honestly, it's not that hard to figure out. It's obvious Malfoy's taken you there," she said.

"That's true. I went with him and Mr. Malfoy last month," said Harry.

"Did you get anything?" Ron asked expectantly.

_Yeah. I got the Hand of Glory._ "No. Mr. Malfoy was buying something at Borgin and Burkes."

"You've gone into Borgin and Burkes?" asked Ron at the same time Hermione asked, "What did he buy?"

Harry turned to Ron and said, "Yes," and then turned to Hermione and said, "I don't know. I couldn't see what was handed to him."

When there were no more questions about Knockturn Alley, they walked up to the man who had taken their picture. As Harry held the picture, the other two stood next to him to see it.

In the picture, they were standing there, smiling. Harry watched as Ron messed up his face as he made a farting sound, which wasn't audible. Then he watched as the three of them in the picture, burst out laughing.

The group of them made their way to the Leaky Cauldron. It was full of people who were having an early dinner. Harry could smell warm, inviting food and finally realized how hungry he was. The group ate dinner there before traveling back by Floo Powder to the Burrow.

A/N: I hope you liked the chapter! Tell me what you liked and what you didn't like, please. Thanks!

**

* * *

Preview of Chapter 11—Come and Gone:**

Harry can't get through to the Hogwarts Express and misses the train…


	11. Come and Gone

"All of us have bad luck and good luck. The man who persists through the back luck – who keeps right on going – is the man who is there when the good luck comes – and is ready to receive it."

-Robert Collier

**11**

**Come and Gone**

"Harry! Wake up!" called a voice he recognized as Ron's.

"Go away," he mumbled. Harry didn't open his eyes. He just turned over in his bed and pulled the covers closer to him. As he tried to get back to sleep, he heard Ron moving around the room, occasionally knocking things over. And then he heard Ron slam shut a trunk. A trunk!

Harry threw off his blanket and grabbed his glasses. "Why didn't you wake me up?" he asked, somehow completely alert. He started grabbing his stuff that was randomly around the room, remembering that it was September 1st and that in a few hours they had to be on the train to Hogwarts.

"I did! You just didn't want to get out of bed," Ron said. "Pass me the shoebox with Scabbers inside." Harry handed it to him and then placed his school books in his trunk.

They should have listened to Mrs. Weasley last night when she said they should pack their trunks the day before. But, stupidly, they thought they would be fine and decided to do it early in the morning. Harry was surprised Ron had actually awoken to get ready.

Harry was still packing the last couple of things, and was still in his pajamas when someone knocked on the door. Instead of waiting for an answer, the door just opened. It was Hermione, who was already dressed in a simple, gray cloak. She looked awake and ready for the day, her hair in a loose, frizzy bun. She even wore a small smile on her face.

"Hermione, when did you wake up?" Ron asked before yawning.

"Six o'clock," said Hermione as she walked into the room. She handed some books to Harry, which he stowed in his trunk.

"But that would mean you've been up for two hours. Were you packing, like us?" Ron asked.

"No, I packed yesterday before I went to sleep," Hermione said. "I was reading a book."

Ron looked at her disbelievingly, because she had been up willingly at such an early hour to do something like read. "Hermione, can you help me bring this downstairs?" Ron asked. She nodded and the two of them hauled the thing downstairs, leaving Harry alone in the room.

Harry finished packing and got dressed. He brought his trunk outside the room into the little hall, ready to take it downstairs by himself. But he heard Fred and George downstairs and called to them, and they helped Harry bring his filled trunk downstairs. The twins had brought theirs down earlier in the morning.

They all ate a quick, wonderful breakfast cooked by Mrs. Weasley, and then set out for the London train station.

--------------------------------

"Hurry, hurry!" Mr. Weasley called.

They were running toward the wall that enabled them to go onto Platform 9 ¾. Just before Fred and George reached the wall, Harry saw another student with blond hair go through. Immediately after, went Percy, who looked upset as the prospect that he might miss the train. Mrs. Weasley went in after with Ginny.

"I'll go first to help your sister," Mr. Weasley said to Ron. "Follow right afterwards." Harry quickly checked his watch, which told him they only had ten minutes to board the Hogwarts Express.

Mr. Weasley went through quickly. Hermione looked around at the Muggles that weren't noticing a single thing and then followed. Ron looked at him questioningly, wondering whether he wanted to go first. "You go," Harry responded.

Ron raced through the wall, holding on tightly to his trunk with Scabbers secured in his pocket. Less than ten seconds passed before Harry, too, was speeding towards the wall.

It didn't really occur to him that he couldn't get through to the platform, until he was flat on his back after crashing his trunk into the wall. Harry got up instantly and tried again, only to have the same thing happen. He pressed his hands against the wall, as he got odd looks from people, wondering what was wrong. All the Weasley's had just gone through.

"No! I've got to get through," he said to himself, almost angrily. He turned and picked up his now sideways trunk. He was going to try getting through again, but…

The clock loudly chimed eleven am, and Harry knew he had missed the train. He stood there in front of the wall, staring at the massive clock that was hanging on another wall. He couldn't believe he had actually missed the train to Hogwarts. How would he get there now? He couldn't walk. For one, he didn't know the way, and if it took all day to get there by train, it would probably take him weeks by foot. He just stared at the dark red bricks that made up the wall, hoping it would somehow open for him.

"Missed the train?" asked a graceful, familiar voice from somewhere behind him.

Harry turned around and saw Lucius Malfoy standing there, holding his usual black cane. His long, blond hair stayed in the same position even with a few breezes passing by. His dark green cloak rustled slightly.

"Mr. Malfoy," Harry said happy to see someone familiar. "Yes, but I'm not sure how to get to Hogwarts."

"Well, first your Head of House must be informed of your not being on the Hogwarts Express. I'll take you to Malfoy Manor. From there we can travel by Floo Powder to the castle," said Mr. Malfoy. Harry grabbed the handles of the trunk and pulled it as he followed the man.

Mr. Malfoy took him to a darker corner of the train station. Here he took out an old, blackened key and held it in his right hand. With his left, he took hold of Harry's shoulder, somewhat tightly.

"Malfoy Manor," Mr. Malfoy said clearly as if talking to the old key itself. Harry presumed the key was a Portkey because the same feeling of being taken from one place to another was pushed upon him, and in mere seconds he was standing outside the front door.

Their arrival must have somehow set off the chime, which rang throughout the house, to alert Dobby. As Harry took a step towards the house, the black front door opened gracefully. Mr. Malfoy walked into the manor with an air of dominance, his chin raised slightly. Harry followed, trudging his trunk along behind him.

The small house elf, Dobby, was holding the silver handle of the door, looking at him with big eyes. He noticed recent burns on his hands as if they had been done only minutes before. Dobby closed the door quickly and rushed away.

"Bring your trunk in here," said Mr. Malfoy as he entered the Great Room. He paused for a moment to look at Harry, and then went on into the hallway. Harry knew the man was going into the Drawing Room, and then up into his Study.

Harry left his trunk in the center of the Great Room, placing Hedwig's cage upon it; he took a seat in one of the brown armchairs. He stared at the floor tiredly since he had woken up quickly, and everything since then had been rushed. The dark red curtains were opened slightly and some light fell across the room, illuminating part of the Grandfather clock and some of the floor.

While Harry was having his limited moments of relaxation, Dobby came in holding a cup of steaming tea. After taking it, he realized that the house elf was still standing there. Harry looked at him oddly as he said, "Yes?"

"Harry Potter mustn't go back to Hogwarts," said Dobby almost pleadingly.

"Well, I missed the train, but I'm going back to Hogwarts, Dobby," stated Harry. "Nothing can keep me from going back to school." Harry said it like the conversation was over. He sipped his tea, waiting for Mr. Malfoy as Dobby wobbled away.

Soon after, Mr. Malfoy came back in. He went toward the bowl of Floo Powder that was on the mantelpiece. Harry didn't need someone to tell him that he was going to travel first, so he put the cup of tea down and grabbed his trunk, placing himself inside the fireplace.

"Where in Hogwarts?" he asked after taking some powder.

"Slytherin common room."

Harry threw the powder down. "_Slytherin common room!_" Green flames burst up momentarily around him, and then he was gone. Not a second after getting out of the fireplace in the common room did Mr. Malfoy appear and walk out. The blond haired man wiped away some ash that had gotten on his elegant cloak.

Leaving the trunk in the common room, Harry and Mr. Malfoy left for Snape's office. It took hardly any time in getting there as they made their way through the dim passageways. It seemed Mr. Malfoy knew the way there, but Harry didn't question him. They walked in silence.

"Come in," said the unpleasant voice of Professor Snape after Mr. Malfoy knocked.

Mr. Malfoy grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. Both of them walked into the office, which was mostly covered in shadow. Behind the wooden desk, sat the greasy-haired Snape, who held a look of slight annoyance at seeing Harry. "Lucius, good to see you," he said.

"And you, Severus," said Mr. Malfoy. Harry, who was standing to the left of Mr. Malfoy, felt the man put a hand on his right shoulder. "Harry here missed the train, so rather than leaving him stranded, I brought him directly here."

"Yes, I received your letter just moments ago," said Snape, who looked as if Mr. Malfoy should have left Harry stranded. "He'll just have to stay for the day and wait for the rest of the school to arrive." He spoke as if Harry wasn't even there.

Mr. Malfoy nodded as he took his hand off Harry. "I see. Well, it seems you have the common room to yourself, Harry. Perhaps, I'll see you at Christmas. Good day to you," he said unemotionally.

Both of the adults were looking at him silently and he knew this meant they wanted him to leave, so they could talk. "Bye, Mr. Malfoy."

As Harry walked to the door, he could feel both their eyes on him, waiting impatiently for him to leave. He closed the door, but didn't walk away. Harry pressed his ear against the door, hoping he would hear the conversation. Instead, he heard Snape say, "_Imperturbatus!_"

Knowing that he wouldn't be able to hear anything now that Snape had put up a barrier, Harry went back along the passageways until he came to the blank wall. He was just about to speak the password when he realized he didn't know what it was. But he wasn't about to go back to Snape's office to ask for it, so he left the entrance to the Slytherin common room, making his way upstairs.

When he got to the Entrance Hall, Harry turned to look into the Great Hall. He opened the door ajar to peek in. The tables were arranged and the candles were lit, the make-believe sky above was a brilliant blue with a couple clouds.

"Potter?" asked a squeaky voice. It made Harry jump and close the door on his right hand.

Harry turned to see the little Professor Flitwick, looking at him curiously. "I thought students weren't supposed to come till later. Why the early arrival?" he asked.

As Harry massaged his hand as he said, "I missed the train, but Draco Malfoy's father brought me here." Flitwick nodded and began to walk away. Harry was going to leave, but walked after his teacher. "Professor? You wouldn't happen to know the password into the Slytherin common room, would you?"

"I should've known you wouldn't know the password to get it," said Flitwick. "It's Creperum."

Harry nodded, and then walked back down the stairs into the Dungeons. When he came to the blank wall, he said, "Creperum." The wall slid to the side to reveal the green Slytherin common room. The first thing Harry noticed was his trunk and Hedwig's cage were not where he had left them; they were gone.

But he had a clue as to where they had gone. Harry crept down to the dormitories. Instead of going into the room with the door marked "i," he opened the door that had "ii" upon it. Like last year, his bed was the farthest to the back in the left corner. His large trunk stood in front of the bed.

Harry walked to his trunk, opening it and taking out his new Slytherin robes. After changing out of his plain robes, he searched in his trunk for the simple box that held his parchment. As he was searching, he came across his Conglomerate Stone, and realized he could have taken that to Hogwarts. He must have forgotten since he had been so upset. But he didn't think about it anymore, looking for his box, which he found it near the bottom, and took it out to place it on his bedside table.

Harry sat on the edge of his bed, his legs hanging over the side. Everyone else was on the Hogwarts Express, probably talking and laughing and having a great time as he sat there, bored. He lay back on the bed, wondering what he could do for the rest of the day.

And after laying there for a few minutes, the idea hit him. He could explore the school. He would never get another chance to be at school all alone, so he might as well take full advantage of it. Harry practically jumped off of his bed, and exited the dormitory, ready to do some exploring.

----------------------

Lets just say that the old, blackened key is a permanent Portkey to Malfoy Manor, much like Harry's Conglomerate Stone. Not canon.

Imperturbatus is from the Imperturbable Charm, which puts a barrier on an object, like a door so that no one can eavesdrop. Canon.

Creperum darkness in Latin.

A/N: This chapter was more of a filler. But I promise the chapters get better!! Yes, it's true that Harry could've used his Conglomerate Stone to get to Hogwarts since it would've take him to the Slytherin common room, but he didn't think of that. He was too upset that he hadn't been able to get to the train that he forgot about it and just went along with Mr. Malfoy. Just wanted to clear that up. Reviews are much appreciated!

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Preview of Chapter 12—Only Those Worthy: **

Harry finds out about a Hogwarts secret of the House common rooms…


	12. Only Those Worthy

"We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us something is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit."

-E. E. Cummings

**12**

**Only Those Worthy**

With nothing to do, Harry left the confines of the Slytherin common room to search the castle. He liked the idea of being the only student at Hogwarts. To Harry, it seemed he _had_ to explore the castle since no one else was around to do it. And Harry was pleased to.

Since he wanted to search the most he could in the time he had, Harry went to the seventh floor, wanting to go top to bottom. He climbed the marble steps as he made his way up towards the top of the castle. As he walked, he kept his eyes on the step or the floor in front of him, anticipating what he might find.

The deserted corridor was like any other, but he knew it was a common place for Gryffindors to be. He knew his father had probably gone by here numerous times a day when he had gone to school here.

Harry went and stood in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, who didn't notice him standing there since she was talking to a friend.

As he stood there, he pictured the Gryffindor common room in his mind's eye. He had seen it in the middle of last year, with its bright and luscious reds, and the couple windows bringing light into the room. He remembered seeing the other students sitting around, talking happily while a warm fire blazed on.

A small smile was brought to his lips, but it was also an empty one. He had never really gotten rid of the feeling that he somehow belonged here, and not down in the Dungeons. After all, his parents had been Gryffindors. But him belonging here was impossible. The Sorting Hat had chosen Slytherin, not Gryffindor. Maybe he was just different than his parents.

Footsteps echoed off the stone walls. Harry turned to see Professor McGonagall. For a second, Harry thought he was in trouble, but there seemed to be a hint of a smile on her face. Besides, school hadn't even started yet. What could he have possibly done wrong already.

"Hello, Mr. Potter."

Realizing that nothing was wrong, Harry said, "Hello, Professor."

At first, it seemed McGonagall was going to walk past him, but she stopped, standing next to him. She, too, looked at the portrait. "Not many people know that those worthy enough, who aren't Gryffindors, are allowed to enter the Gryffindor common room," she said, still looking at the portrait. "The same goes for the other common rooms as well. But you need a certain type of worth for each one. You need to be worthy."

"Worthy? What exactly does 'worthy' mean?" Harry asked, looking at McGonagall. Her gray hair was pulled back in her usual tight bun. She looked ready for the upcoming year.

"Worthy by Gryffindor standards, not Slytherin. What do _you_ think it means?"

Harry turned away from her gaze, looking instead at the floor. He understood what she meant by Gryffindor standards: not just pureblood. To Gryffindors it meant more than what blood a person was and where they came from.

"I think it means that those worthy have to be brave, thinking of others before themselves," said Harry. "And if that's true then I'm not worthy."

"What makes you say that?"

"I'm not brave," Harry said, looking at her.

"You may not be a Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, but that doesn't mean you aren't brave," said McGonagall kindly. There was a soft twinkle in her eye that Harry had never seen before. "I happen to remember you rescued Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy…and Professor Snape, risking your own life to save theirs. If that's not bravery, I don't know what is."

There was a pause as Harry thought about what McGonagall had said. Did that mean there was a chance he could enter the Gryffindor common room.

"Professor?" he asked. "Can I try entering the Gryffindor common room?"

McGonagall nodded. "The password's Meander."

Harry moved toward the portrait. He could feel McGonagall's eyes on him. He heard his own faint footsteps as he neared, which caused the Fat Lady and Violet to realize he was there. "I didn't know students came this early," said Violet. The Fat Lady told Violet to be quiet before asking, "Password?"

"Err…Meander," Harry said uncertain. The Fat Lady, however, gave a small nod and then the portrait hole opened ajar of its own accord.

He smiled slightly and grabbed the frame of the portrait. From behind him, McGonagall said, "That wasn't the test, Mr. Potter. The test is if you can set foot inside the common room."

Hearing this, the smile wiped clean off his face. There was a pause as Harry looked inside the red common room. Maybe he just wasn't like his parents. Maybe he wasn't meant to go inside. Maybe he was meant to stand outside in the corridor, watching from afar. But for some reason unknown to him, Harry was determined to make it inside the Gryffindor common room.

He brought his foot up and then walked through the portrait hole. He was completely through. As Harry stood there, he now knew why he had been so determined. He wanted to be somewhere his mother and father had been. Maybe he wasn't so different than his parents. He had his parent's blood in him. He had Gryffindor blood in him. The thought made him smile widely.

Professor McGonagall followed him in. Harry looked around with a slight fascination that he was in Gryffindor territory.

"Professor, what would have happened if I wasn't worthy?"

"I'm not sure, Potter. I've never witnessed someone try before," she said. She turned to leave, a hint of a smile on her face. "The password is going to be changed tonight. I hope you understand." Harry nodded. And with that, McGonagall left the common room.

After she had gone, Harry walked around the common room, wanting to take it all in. He knew he probably wouldn't be here again. None of the Gryffindors would ever give him the password. Not even Ron or Hermione, he knew.

He wished the Slytherin common room had windows, but it was underground, so that was impossible. Looking out one of the Gryffindor windows, Harry saw, in the distance, part of the Quidditch pitch outside with its short but exceptionally green grass and tall stadium seats with its numerous rows.

Satisfied and pleased with himself, Harry left the Gryffindor common room a couple minutes later. He stepped out and was about to close the portrait hole when he heard a slow clapping. Snape was walking toward him as he clapped, mockingly.

"Congratulations. You're worthy enough to make it inside the prestigious Gryffindor common room," said Snape slowly. After saying this, he stopped clapping. His face held a look of ridicule. He stood close to Harry and the portrait hole, which still hung open.

Harry glared at him, but was also embarrassed that Snape, his Head of House, had caught him walking out of another common room. "You're jealous. I'm worthy enough to go into two common rooms," said Harry, saying the first thing that came to his mind.

Snape laughed. "Jealous? You think I'm jealous, Potter? I wouldn't _want_ to go into _that_ common room," Snape said, motioning toward the portrait hole. "You may be worthy enough to go inside the Gryffindor common room, but you're only allowed to go into the Slytherin common room because you are a Slytherin. I doubt, had you been anything else, that you would be allowed anywhere near Slytherin territory."

Somewhere deep down, Snape had hit a nerve; a soft spot. There had been that little bit of uncertainty that Harry didn't belong with the other Slytherins. Snape had brought this to his attention again, and he didn't appreciate it.

There was a tensioned silence as the two of them glared at each other. Harry was at a loss for words as he looked at the man before him. He didn't know what to say, so remained silent. He saw Snape's lips turn into a smirk.

The silence was broken when the Fat Lady said, "Close the portrait hole and leave! I'm trying to have a civilized conversation here!" She was clearly annoyed by the two Slytherins standing before her, but turned back to her friend.

Harry pushed the frame gently, so it closed. He turned and walked down the corridor, passing Snape as he did. He heard footsteps behind him and didn't have to turn to know that his Potion's professor was behind him.

Snape, who was clad in his usual black, walked faster and was soon taking quick strides in front of Harry. He looked at Snape, wondering whether he had ever tried to enter Gryffindor common room, despite what he had said moments before.

Curious but still annoyed, Harry asked, "Have _you_ ever tried?"

Without turning or slowing down, the greasy-haired man asked, "Tried what?" The irritation was clear in his voice.

"Tried getting into the Gryffindor common room?" Harry asked.

Snape slowed. Without realizing as Harry assumed. "No. I don't need a portrait hole to tell me I'm not '_worthy_'," said Snape.

Harry had never heard him talk like that before. Without realizing, Harry stopped in his tracks, whereas Snape continued even faster. What had that been in his voice? Sadness? Anger? Bitterness? Harry couldn't place it, but could tell that Snape was thinking of something he had done in his past, which made him unworthy. But what? What acts could do that?

Harry thought about it all the way down to the Great Hall, forgetting his want to explore the castle. Instead, he thought of how hungry he was since it was now early afternoon.

He opened the door to the Great Hall, thinking it would be empty. Harry was pleasantly surprised to find some teachers eating. But they weren't eating at the High Table; they were eating at the students' tables.

Professor McGonagall was currently eating at the Hufflepuff table with Professor Sprout. Professor Flitwick was eating at the Ravenclaw table as a small pile of books stood in front of his plate. Professor Sinistra was sitting by herself at the Gryffindor table as she held up a map of the stars, which she was looking at intently.

It was when the Great Hall doors closed that McGonagall looked up to see him there. She motioned for him to come over and he did so. None of the other teachers seemed to notice his presence since they were either working or talking. But it was better that way for Harry.

"I presumed you would get hungry, so I left a plate at the end of the High Table. Take whatever you want," McGonagall said. She turned back to her conversation with Professor Sprout.

"Thanks," he said, but no one heard him.

After taking the plate, he grabbed a ton of food. Chicken, potatoes, and of course some dessert. He also took a goblet of pumpkin juice before sitting at the Slytherin table. As he sat there, his back to the rest of the Great Hall, he could hear bits of conversation; it was mostly about the upcoming year and classes.

Eventually, the Great Hall doors opened and Professor Parish walked through. As Parish walked to get his plate at the High Table, he smiled at Harry cheerfully. Harry smiled back, watching as the man took some food and sat down across from him at the Slytherin table.

"You looked a bit lonesome," said Parish. Harry saw his teacher look around the room. "It's odd sitting here. When I went to school here, I sat at the Hufflepuff table."

"You were a Hufflepuff?" Harry asked just for the sake of making conversation.

"Yes, and I'm hoping my daughter will be one, too."

"How old is your daughter?"

"Five. She already wants to go to Hogwarts," said Parish with a small smile, clearly thinking of his little girl.

Harry asked, "Isn't it hard being away from your family?"

Parish took a gulp from his cup before continuing. "It's been rough. I miss them greatly, but I get a letter from my wife and daughter almost every day. It helps."

As Harry chewed his food, he nodded at what Parish said. If he had a family and had to be away from them for about ten months, he would be heartbroken. He would miss his family just as much as the professor sitting opposite him did.

They continued to talk until Parish said that he had work to finish before the rest of the students came. After Parish left, Harry did so, too. Since there was nothing he could think to do anywhere else, he went to the Slytherin common room.

A/N: Sorry it was a bit shorter than my others, but since there was plenty happening, I felt nothing more needed adding. Anyway, tell me if you liked it! Thanks!

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* * *

Preview of Chapter 13—Dirty Plans:**

After the rest of the students arrive at Hogwarts and the sorting ceremony, Harry tells his friends about the common rooms secret, and dirty plans are made…


	13. Dirty Plans

"There is nothing so useless as doing efficiently that which should not be done at all."

-Peter F. Drucker

**13**

**Dirty Plans**

Hours past and when evening came, Harry realized that the other students would be arriving very soon. He rushed upstairs and looked outside from the Entrance Hall doorway. The Hogwarts Express, with small bursts of steam billowing from the top, was sitting across the Black Lake.

It seemed the other students had already left the train because the carriages carrying the older students were coming toward the castle. Harry could just make out Hagrid and the new first years as they filed into the four-person boats.

Harry went back inside and hid near the foot of the stairs, so no one could see him. He only had to wait a couple minutes before the students his age and older arrived in the Entrance Hall. Soon, the chatter of tons of people could be heard.

From his hiding place, Harry looked around for any sign of Draco. Eventually, he found Draco talking to Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise. He stole out of the shadow and snuck up behind Draco. Harry pushed him slightly from behind, knowing that his friend would turn to say something.

Draco turned around instinctively just as Harry had planned. His eyes opened wider at the sight of Harry. "Harry!" Draco exclaimed. Blaise was just as shocked. "Where the hell have you been?"

The whole crowd of students moved into the Great Hall. "I couldn't get onto Platform 9 ¾ for some reason. I missed the train, but your father brought me here in the morning," Harry said to Draco. Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle were listening as they walked.

"You mean, you've been here the whole day?" asked Blaise.

"Yeah, and I learned some interesting things, too. I'll tell you about it later," Harry said, as they sat down at the Slytherin table.

Professor Dumbledore was sitting in his chair quietly. All the staff was there at the High Table except McGonagall and Hagrid. McGonagall was waiting in the Entrance Hall for the first years, who were with Hagrid, probably about to die of fright, knowing they would have to be sorted soon. And only a couple minutes later, those scared little eleven-year-olds came walking into the Great Hall. He spotted Ron's little sister, Ginny, who looked nervous, her face slightly red.

Harry turned to the Sorting Hat, which was on the three-legged wooden stool in front of Dumbledore, when it began to sing.

"I may not be as fancy as a beret;  
However, I will never be thrown away.  
My service to this school has always been required,  
I have seen all that has transpired.

Thy destiny in Hogwarts will be set this day.  
Where you'll be, depends on what I say.  
I will search into your heart and mind.  
The right House for you I will find.

To those who are brave and true,  
Gryffindor is the house for you.  
To those who are pure and ambitious,  
In Slytherin you will be victorious.

To those who are intelligent and wise,  
Ravenclaw will more than suffice.  
To those who are loyal and kind,  
Hufflepuff will not decline.

Come over with your head held high,  
I will place you to one of the seats nearby.  
Put me on and we will see,  
Where thou art meant to be."

Everyone in the Great Hall applauded, which filled the room loudly. McGonagall walked closer to the Sorting Hat and pulled a large piece of parchment from her pocket, and the applauding stopped. The sorting began.

After most of the students had been designated a House, Ginny Weasley was called. Harry saw that her face was red, almost a match to her hair, as she walked up. She sat on the stool, which Harry remembered sitting on all too well. There were a few moments of near silence before the hat blurted out loudly, "Gryffindor!" The Gryffindor table clapped enthusiastically. Ron looked pleased that his little sister had made it into the family House.

The Sorting Hat and the stool were put away, and then Dumbledore, looking cheerful, stood up. He didn't have to say anything for the room to quiet down. Almost everyone turned to him. His eyes, which were behind his half-moon spectacles, seemed to quickly survey the room. There was a smile on his calm face.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Before your mouths begin to water in hunger because I know everyone would like some delicious food, I have a few things to say," said Dumbledore, looking around. He turned his head slightly and raised his hand, motioning toward Parish. "I would like to welcome a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Oliver Parish." There was applauding as Parish stood up and waved, somewhat shyly. "And, as usual, the Forbidden Forest is off limits for all students. Let the feast begin!"

Students cheered when food magically appeared on the table, and chatting between them all began. Harry saw Dumbledore sit, and then take a sip of something from his goblet.

Harry turned back to the Slytherin table when Draco asked, "What exactly happened earlier? How is it you weren't able to get onto the platform?"

"I'm not sure. Just two seconds before me another student went through. I tried, but I just couldn't seem to get through to the train. It was also before eleven am," explained Harry. He took a big chunk out a piece of bread. After he swallowed it, he continued, "Luckily, your father was there, Draco. He took me to Malfoy Manor and wrote a letter to Snape, so he knew I wasn't on the train. Right after sending off the letter, we went to Hogwarts by Floo Powder. I've been here the whole day."

Not five minutes later, Adrian Pucey, a Chaser on the Slytherin Quidditch team, came up to Harry saying, "Potter, I heard you've been here the whole day! What did you do?" Marcus Flint came up and stood behind Pucey with a troll-like interest.

To Draco and Blaise, Harry said, "How is it everyone knows already?" He turned to the two older students. "I didn't do anything. I just missed the train."

"Come off it. We know you must've done something. What's Dumbledore trying to hide?" Pucey asked with a twisted smile.

"I swear, I didn't do anything," said Harry. He saw Pucey's mouth forming words, so he said, "Just leave, Pucey!" Harry turned to the table, staring at his food. He heard Pucey and Flint's footsteps as they walked away.

His voice a whisper, Draco asked, "You said you learned something earlier. What is it?" Blaise leaned in to hear, as did Crabbe and Goyle.

"Well, since I knew I'd be here all day, I decided to search around the castle. I was on the seventh floor, and was looking at the portrait of the Fat Lady, when—"

"Wait. What's so special about a fat lady?" Goyle asked.

"It's the entrance to the Gryffindor common room," said Harry. "Anyway, I was standing there when McGonagall came up to me. She told me that people, who aren't Gryffindors are allowed to go in, but they have to be worthy. But what I thought was interesting, was the fact that she said it applies to all the common rooms. So, someone who's not a Slytherin could go in, but they have to be worthy."

"Worthy?" asked Draco.

"For the Slytherin common room, it would be what we think is worthiness. It's different for them all," said Harry.

Draco was nodding to himself as he heard this. "I wish I could try it. Not myself though, but another. I know I wouldn't be allowed in another common room. I want to see if another person would be allowed into our common room. That would be interesting, don't you think? That would prove that the person is somewhat cunning."

"Ha-ha. Yeah, that would be…eh, interesting," said Crabbe. There were bits of food covering his robes and face. Goyle looked much the same, as he nodded at what Draco had said.

"We should try it later on," considered Blaise. "But on who? Who'd be worthy enough to enter?"

Harry shrugged as he took another bite of food. Draco asked, "D'you know what happens if someone isn't worthy?"

"No," said Harry as he shook his head.

Harry saw Draco sit up more, so that he could look around the Great Hall. "Hmm…Michael Corner? No. Hannah Abbot? Definitely not. Aha! Percy Weasley," said Draco with a smirk as he looked at Harry. He knew Draco had said a Weasley on purpose.

Draco continued, "He'll be walking around the corridors since he's a Gryffindor Prefect. We can leave a piece of parchment with the password on it, and hopefully, he'll try to get in."

Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle approved of the idea. Harry only agreed since he was interested in seeing what would happen. They decided that later this week they would leave the parchment after they saw him walking down the corridor.

The students finished eating, and then they all marched out of the Great Hall. The Slytherin Prefects lead the Slytherin students down to the Dungeons, as Harry and his friends talked more about their little plan. They stopped walking when they were in front of the entrance to the common room.

"Creperum," said a Prefect loudly.

The wall slid open to reveal the Slytherin common room. All the students, except for the first years, went down to their dormitories. Harry went to his bed and sat down upon it. He knew that as he was sitting there, the first years were being talked to by Snape.

He remembered what Snape had said last year: "Look at the people around you. These are your allies, your classmates, and most of all, your friends. Do not cross one another, for you may never know who you will need in the future."

Harry looked around the room. Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott, his roommates, were taking objects out of their trunks to put around their beds. He realized that, in a way, he did need them. They were his allies, who were good to have at Hogwarts, and they were his friends, something he had never had before. That was all thanks to Dudley, who had scared away every kid just so he wouldn't have any friends. But, nevertheless, they were there.

Harry laid back on his bed, and stared at the stone ceiling. "Potter, don't go to sleep now. You've got the whole night before you!" Blaise said.

"Who said I was going to sleep? Can't a man take a quick rest?" asked Harry jokingly.

"Who said you were a man?" Draco asked before laughing. He was walking toward the door now. "Come on, the first years have probably come down by now. We can go up and walk around. Besides, I have a present for the Gryffindors." He smiled mischievously as he pointed to his pocket. "Harry, get your Invisibility Cloak."

"What do you have, Malfoy?" Blaise asked as he followed Draco. Harry grabbed his cloak before following the other two. Crabbe and Goyle stayed behind.

"Oh, don't worry. You'll see," said Draco, a smirk on his face.

Before leaving the common room, Draco told Harry to put the cloak over them. Harry and Blaise followed Draco up slowly as he walked. When they got to the seventh floor, Draco turned to Harry and asked, "Where's the Gryffindor common room?"

Without saying a word, Harry walked until they were near the portrait of the Fat Lady, and pointed to it. Draco nodded. They were standing against the wall opposite the portrait.

When Harry heard Draco take something out of his pocket, he turned to see his best friend putting on gloves. "What are…?" asked Harry. But then his blond friend took out a Dungbomb. Luckily, they don't stink until after they are set off because he was right next to one.

"Nice idea!" Blaise whispered excitedly. "Those Gryffindors are going to love the smell!"

"Some dung for those dirty Gryffindors," said Draco, almost bitterly.

Draco put the Dungbomb gently on the floor. He took out his wand, and then picked up part of the cloak, so that he had a clear shot of the floor below the portrait. "_Wingardium Leviosa!_" Draco said.

The Dungbomb levitated into air. Draco's flicked his wand in the direction of the portrait, and Harry watched as the Dungbomb went flying. It crashed to the floor just below the portrait of the Fat Lady with a loud bang. Brown powder from the bomb was all over the floor, and a dreadful smell filled the corridor.

Under the cloak, Harry, Draco, and Blaise moved away from the mess. Harry heard the portrait open. Fred, George, and Lee Jordan peered out from their common room. George was going to step down, but was stopped by Jordan. They covered their noses and turned away from the smell as they stood there.

Fred held his nose as he said, "Slytherins. Definitely Slytherins."

Sorting Hat Song was created by an author on fanfiction. named **the nutty imp**.

Dungbombs make your hands dirty when they are touched, so Draco put on gloves. This is canon information from Harry Potter Lexicon.

**A/N:** Okay. This is about relationships. I've gotten way too many reviews about it (on fanfiction. to ignore it. Some people want Harry/Cho, some want Harry/Ginny, and some want the triangle I mentioned of Harry/Pansy/Draco. Since I was never intending Harry to be with Cho, that one is out. Sorry. I don't think it would work out very well, considering how it turned out in the actual books. Harry/Ginny, knowing what's going to happen, wouldn't work between the beginning of Year 3 and the end of Year 5. It could happen after that, so we'll see what happens. The triangle of Harry/Pansy/Draco I was going to have happen only in Year 5, so I'm probably going to have that one occur. Since there aren't many Slytherin girls we know about, I'll probably make one up for him to be with also. That's about it. Anything else you're curious about, just put it into your review! Thanks!

**

* * *

Preview of Chapter 14—The Old Diary:**

Harry finds a unique, old diary in his trunk, and from the common room plan, Percy Weasley get seriously injured…


	14. The Old Diary

"If the other person injures you, you may forget the injury; but if you injure him you will always remember." -Kahlil Gibran 

A/N: What Harry writes is italicized and has quotes, but what is written by Riddle is just italicized. Just so you know. Enjoy!

**14 **

**The Old Diary**

_A bright, nearly full moon shone clearly. It shined onto the Black Lake's opaque surface. Harry was standing near the edge. He picked up a stone, throwing it to the lake, so that it skipped three times across the surface before sinking to the bottom._

_A thick, gray cloud of fog was drawing nearer to Harry. Soon, he was surrounded by it, unable to see which way to go. He didn't know how to get out_.

_Harry stood completely still since he couldn't see at all. Suddenly, he heard a loud roaring and a clear hissing. He jumped back at the right moment to see a large lion and a large snake lung at each other. The two animals were now fighting viciously._

_As he continued to walk away from it all. The fog followed him as he moved. Harry lost his footing, falling back. He tried to catch himself, but there was no more land. Harry fell into the Black Lake with a splash, the icy cold water washing over him…_

Harry woke up suddenly. He was sweating slightly, and wiped his forehead with his pajamas sleeve. He grabbed his blanket and pulled it up to his chin, turning over to attempt sleep, which he eventually did.

A couple hours later, Harry was in the Great Hall with Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle. Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode were sitting near them, talking and giggling. They were waiting for Snape to hand them their time tables for the year.

Out of nowhere, a first-year boy came up to the Slytherin table as Harry was eating. "Can I have your autograph?" the boy asked enthusiastically. His eyes were wide open as they looked directly at Harry.

Surprised, Harry leaned his head back at the sight of the boy. "Err...I'm eating breakfast right now," said Harry, not wanting to be rude.

"Oh, good! Can you sign one of your pancakes for me? To: Colin Creevey, your biggest fan." Creevey asked eagerly.

Next to him, Draco spit up some juice onto the table in front of him and then laughed, grabbing his stomach. Still laughing, he asked Harry, "Biggest fan?"

Creevey was looking at him with admiration. "So can you?"

"Sure he can. And look he bit into this one! Here, keep it," said Draco smiling as he handed Creevey the pancake Harry had bitten into.

Creevey held the sticky pancake with his mouth open and ran away without another word. Harry and Draco burst out laughing at the sight.

-----------------------------------

The first class on Monday was Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Gryffindors. Before heading up to the classroom, Harry had gone back down to get his books for the day. When he walked into the classroom, he was shocked. The classroom was completely different from how it had been last year when Quirrel had been teacher.

There were maybe a hundred candles around the room, but none of them were lit. They were grouped in threes or fours, sometimes more, in different places. The candles were all off-white, cylinder-shaped, and not too tall. But there was one candle that was taller than the others that was on the left corner of Professor Parish's desk.

Harry took his seat next to Draco on the right side of the room, two tables from the front. Parish stood up from his desk, and the whole class watched as he took out his wand, touching it to the wick of the large candle.

Without saying a word, a small flame came out of the tip. Once that candle was lit, the others in the room lit, as well. It was as if a gust of wind had blown in through the window, not getting rid of, but creating the flames.

The class gasped as the candles lit around the room. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil said, "Oooo!" at the same time.

"Hello, class! Welcome to the second level of Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Parish with enthusiasm and a smile. "This year, I hope you can use less of your books and more of your wit and wands. This is a class to teach you how to defend yourself against the Dark Arts and to also learn about them to further expand your knowledge. But, I must warn you, if you all cannot listen and pay attention, then we'll go back to books. And I know none of you want to do that. Anyway, I hope you not only learn, but also have fun in this class. I think that by having fun, you'll learn more."

Parish moved around his desk to stand in front of the class. He raised his wand, flicking it and a whole bunch of old teddy bears flew from the corner of the room, landing before each student.

"Well, let's get started! No books will be needed today. Everyone stand up!" Parish said to the class, and they all obeyed. "Before taking your wands out, repeat after me: Incarcerous!"

"Incarcerous!" repeated the class.

"Does anyone know what this spell does?"

Hermione instantly raised her hand. Draco scoffed. Parish pointed to her. "The Incarcerous spell ties someone or something up with ropes."

"Very good! Five points for Gryffindor. This is the spell we'll be attempting today. You all have a bear in front of you, and you will all be trying to tie up the bear," said Parish. He then laughed slightly and a couple students did the same. "I know, it must sound odd, me telling you to tie up a bear. Just _bear_ with me."

More students joined in as Parish laughed a little more. Even Harry couldn't help but laugh since his professor's laugh was so infectious. When he had stopped, Parish said, "Take out your wands!" When the class had done so, he added, "Begin!"

Harry had already done this spell once before last year when he had saved Ron from Greyback in the Great Hall. But he had done that in a rush and had somehow managed to achieve the spell. Harry hoped he could do it again.

He took a step back from the table, raised his wand, and as he stared at the brown, lumpy bear said, "_Incarcerous!_" Immediately, thick ropes emerged from his wand and encased the innocent, little bear. He gleemed in happiness at doing it so quickly.

Looking over at Hermione, he saw that she hadn't been able to accomplish the spell yet. Parish came over and congratulated him on the wonderfully done spell, earning ten points for Slytherin. Beside him, Draco was still attempting the spell, so Harry helped him.

By the time the class had ended, a lot of people had rope burn marks. Seamus Finnigan had accidentally aimed his wand at Longbottom, who fell to the floor after his legs had been tied up. Goyle, who had somehow managed to conjure the ropes, didn't aim them at the bear, but accidentally at Lavendar Brown. The ropes flew by her right arm so fast that it left a redish-purple burn mark. Others somehow managed to get burns, too.

As they left the classroom to go to Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, Draco said to him in the corridor, "That was actually a decent Dark Arts class. Not like Quirrel's old classes. I hope it stays like this."

"Me, too. Doing spells in class is a lot better than reading paragraphs from books," said Harry as they turned a corner.

-----------------------------------

"I'm starving. I'm gonna go to dinner. Harry, are you coming?" asked Blaise from the door. Crabbe and Goyle were following him. Draco was upstairs in the common room, finishing his homework.

"I'll be there in a second. I'm just trying to find my Transfiguration book for tomorrow," said Harry as he searched through his trunk.

It was Tuesday evening. Harry had gone through his Monday and Tuesday classes with nothing spectacular happening, and as he rummaged through his trunk, looking for tomorrow's books, he came across a diary mixed between two schoolbooks.

It was really old, but still in good condition. Looking through the off-white and sometimes yellowed pages, Harry saw there was nothing written there. Nothing whatsoever. He glanced at the back and saw the words in gold foil: _Vauxhal Road_.

Not knowing why, Harry opened the front cover of the diary to the first page. He was surprised to find something – a name: _Tom Marvolo Riddle_.

As Harry continued to look at the old diary, he got the feeling he had seen it somewhere before. Then it occurred to him that he had another like this; one from Parish. Once more, he searched through his trunk until he found it. It was the same diary except a lot newer. The pages were crisp and white, and the same address was written on the back.

Riddle's completely blank diary made Harry curious. Why was there nothing written in his diary? Did he never have time to write, but wanted to? Or did he just get it as a present and never wanted to write anything in the first place?

Before getting his quill and ink from his bedside table, Harry put back the new diary. He would come back to it later, and perhaps write something in it. He went to the small table near the door and fireplace to sit down.

His bottle of ink was open, his quill was in his hand, but he couldn't think of anything to write. Harry dipped his quill into the ink, and then touched it to one of the blank diary page. He gazed up as he tried to think of something to write.

Half a minute later when he looked back down, with still nothing to write, he saw there was a huge drop of ink in the middle of the page. He moved his hand away to see the ink slowly fade away into the page. He was astounded and curious, so he dropped ink onto the page once more. It faded and Harry began to write.

"_My name is Harry Potter. I'm twelve years old and sitting at the table in one of the Slytherin dormitories."_

Harry chuckled slightly. He never pictured himself, writing in a diary. When he looked back down at the paper, the words were gone. Other words, words he hadn't written, were in its place.

_Good evening, Harry Potter, my name is Tom Riddle. I am the previous owner of this diary. I'm sixteen years old. How, may I ask, did you come across my old diary?_

"_I'm not sure. I found it amongst the items in my trunk. I think I bought it in Flourish and Blotts by accident when I was buying my schoolbooks._

_There is no such thing as accident; it is fate misnamed._

"_Maybe you and I were meant to meet then, Riddle."_

_Perhaps we were._

-----------------------------

"Shut up!" said Draco, as he placed the small piece of parchment on the corridor floor. He placed it a couple of feet from the blank wall where the common room lay. "It's almost a quarter to eight. Percy Weasley always shows up at this time."

Harry's first Friday evening at Hogwarts, and he was outside the common room under his Invisibility Cloak with Blaise and Draco. Crabbe and Goyle wanted to come, but they all wouldn't fit under the cloak.

Draco had been using Harry's cloak the whole week to figure out the time when Percy Weasley strolled by the common room. That time was a quarter to eight and it was soon approaching.

Harry regretted telling Draco about the common rooms and being worthy. He didn't want Percy Weasley to get seriously hurt if he wasn't worthy. Ron would blame him for not doing anything if he found out he had been involved. But if he was worthy, he might get even more hurt since it wasn't even eight yet, and most of the Slytherin's didn't go to sleep till late. The other Slytherin's would definitely hurt him if they got the chance.

Harry checked his watch: 7:45. "Come on!" whispered Harry from under the cloak to Draco.

Draco ran back, and both Harry and Blaise threw the cloak over him. Just in time, too, because steps began to echo off the cold walls. They pressed their invisible selves against the wall as the sound got louder.

Striding down, with an air of self-importance almost equal to that of Draco, was Percy Weasley. His head was high as his prefect badge shone brightly from the torches; it was obvious he had polished it recently. He stopped when he saw the parchment on the floor and picked it up.

After he read what was written, he looked around, possibly making sure no one was there. When he had, he walked closer to the blank wall. Percy cleared his throat. "Creperum," he said, somewhat unsurely. But the wall, without a doubt, slid open.

Beside Harry, both Draco and Blaise gasped. In a whisper, he said, "That wasn't the test. He actually has to get in."

Percy stuffed the parchment into his cloak pocket, and then approached the opening. He stepped closer and looked around for a few seconds. It was clear the red-head wanted to go further, but as he raised his foot to take another step—

Percy Weasley was thrown back by an unbelievable amount of force into the stonewall a couple feet from where Harry and the others were standing, who were now horrified. Percy slid down the wall slowly and landed like a lump on the ground. His legs were out in front of him as his head rested against the wall. Percy was definitely unconscious.

Harry immediately threw the cloak off himself, Draco, and Blaise. He ran to Percy's side and knelt down. There was a thin streak of blood on the wall from where Percy had been thrown to where he sat at the moment.

There was movement behind him, and he turned to see other Slytherins of all years, looking out of the opening. A girl screamed loudly at the sight while some boys just laughed.

Percy needed to be tended to immediately. The back of his head was beginning to bleed profusely all over the wall. Harry turned to Draco and yelled in frustration, "Get help!" Draco's face was incredibly pale. For a moment he just stared at Harry, but then seemed to come to terms with what Harry had said and ran off quickly.

When Draco had gone, Harry turned back to the common room opening; more students had gathered to watch. "This isn't some sort of show! Go away!" he yelled at them, but no one moved.

Harry was suddenly distracted by the fact that Percy Weasley was awake, now coughing and wheezing loudly. He kept looking around as if he wasn't sure exactly where he was, so Harry assumed he had an immense concussion. But then Percy fell unconscious once more. Harry then heard footsteps drawing nearer to them.

Snape and Draco came out of the shadowy corridor. "Step aside, Potter," Snape said hurriedly. He took out his wand and waved it at Percy Weasley as he said, "_Mobilicorpus!_" Instantly, Percy's body rose above the floor.

The spot Percy's head had been leaning against was covered in blood. "Don't you dare move. _Any of you_," Snape said, looking at Harry then Blaise and then Draco, giving each a cold look. He then walked away swiftly, Percy's body levitating eerily behind him.

Harry stood up slowly after Snape had left. Draco was looking pale and Blaise hadn't moved an inch the whole time. The other Slytherins were still clustered in the opening, now talking loudly to each other about what they had just witnessed.

In somewhat of a daze, Harry moved over to Blaise and picked up his Invisibility Cloak, stuffing it in his pocket. Would Snape expell him? Would Draco and Blaise be expelled as well? Would his expulsion mean that he would have to go live with the Durlsey's and go back to Muggle schooling? He certiantly hoped not.

-------------------------

Harry stared at the furious face of Snape as they stood inside his extremely dim office. What made him even scarier was the fact that only half his face was showing since the other half was in shadow. Snape had his hands seperated on his desk as he leaned over it to glare at them.

"Weasley is in the Hospital Wing, still unconscious! If Malfoy hadn't come to get me, he would be in an even worse condition! You're lucky I'm not expelling all three of you tonight from this!" Snape said angrily. He had been looking at Harry the whole time.

There was a slight pause as he momentarily looked at the floor, probably coming up with their punishment. "The three of you will report to me tomorrow night and Tuesday night at seven o'clock for your detention. _Don't be late._"

Harry, Blaise, and Draco turned to leave the office in silence. But then Snape said, "Potter, I'd like to speak to you for a moment," in a unemotional voice. Draco and Harry exchanged looks before Harry turned back.

When the door had closed and Harry had moved back to where he had been previously, Snape continued in a cruel voice. "You should've known better, Potter."

"Known better, Professor?" Harry asked, giving him a look.

Snape gave Harry an incredulous look. "Yes. You should've known better than to tell Malfoy about the common rooms and how one can go in by being worthy," he said. Harry was about to retort, but Snape continued on. "And don't try to get out of this one. There's no doubt it was you since we had had a conversation about this the first day of school.

"I've known Malfoy and his father longer than you have, Potter. Long enough to know that they'll try anything once if they can. But it's you, not Malfoy, who should be worried about being expelled. So don't _slip up_. It would be most dreadful if I expelled you and didn't have to see you around school anymore," Snape said sarcastically, pretending to be miserable. A small smirk emerged from the corners of his mouth as he looked at Harry.

Snape sat down in his seat behind his desk. Without looking up at Harry, he said unemotionally, "Leave." Harry did so without hesitancy.

Harry walked back to the common room to find the deep red blood, which shone eerily in the torch-light, still upon the wall.

------------

Quote from Napoleon Bonaparte.

A/N: Fog in a dream means the person is feeling confused. And if there's war, or a fight, in a dream it means there's some inner conflict. It's supposed to be about how Harry feels confused about where he belongs: Gryffindor or Slytherin.

**

* * *

Preview of Chapter 15—Crimson Façade:**

Harry writes to Riddle about being the Boy Who Lived, and has an argument with a friend…


	15. Crimson Facade

"Anybody can become angry, that is easy; but to be angry with the right person, and to the right degree, and at the right time, and for the right purpose, and in the right way, that is not within everybody's power, that is not easy."

-Aristotle

**15**

**Crimson Facade**

It really was too bad the day had gone by so fast. The sun had been out all day, warming the air dramatically. It was unlike a normal September day. It had been so nice; Harry had even taken off his robes, so that he was wearing his collared shirt, sweater vest, and trousers. He, Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle had completed their work outside beneath a large tree, which gave them some shade.

Of course, the only problem that day had been the numerous questions they received when the rest of the school found out about what had happened last night. It was likely that during breakfast the information had been spread. The whole school knew that Harry, Draco, and Blaise had played a trick on Percy Weasley, which had eventually led to his getting hurt, but no one knew exactly what the trick had been.

Snape wanted to keep under wraps what had occurred, so that morning, he called each year at a time into the common room to tell them he did not want to hear a single word about what had happened outside the walls of Slytherin common room.

Gryffindors walking by the large tree, which Harry and the others were sitting under, gave them dirty looks, like they had hurt Percy on purpose. Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws looked at them like they couldn't believe they had done such a thing. Harry overheard Ernie Macmillian talking to Hannah Abbot about the whole ordeal and how Harry most likely did something careless to get Percy hurt.

But now it was seven pm; Draco, Blaise, and Harry were sitting in the Potion's classroom, waiting for what they would be doing for their detention. The only thing Snape had said when they came in was to sit down at different tables. Snape was still sitting at his desk, writing something down very quickly.

The three of them exchanged uncertain glances, and then Snape said, "Today, you'll be doing lines. You'll be writing, 'I will not hurt other students in public.'" With a flick of his wand, three enormous rolls of parchment flew to each of them, as well as a bottle of ink and a quill.

Harry gave Draco a look of 'I can't believe he's making us do this.' And Snape must have seen because he stood up suddenly, looking directly at Harry.

"Are lines too much for the Boy Who Lived? Can you not handle such a task?" Snape asked mockingly.

Harry looked at Snape with detest. "I can handle it," he said slowly and with malice.

"Good," said Snape. He turned away. "When you're done with the three rolls you may leave. Begin."

The scratch of quills began and continued on for more than two hours. Draco had finished first, but he had written unnaturally big. Harry knew his handwriting and it was usually very small. Blaise had finished second, but there were spots all over the sheets where there was no writing at all.

Harry would've done the same, except he knew Snape would never have let him get away with that like the others did. So he wrote on and on and on…

A half-hour after Blaise had left and almost forty-five minutes after Draco, Harry finished. He picked up the parchment with his cramped right hand, and brought it up to Snape's desk. Harry placed it on top of Draco's and Blaise's parchments.

When Snape said and did nothing, Harry left the classroom, happy to be away from it and the horrible professor inside.

In the corner of the common room, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were talking. So, Harry stole downstairs into the dormitory, which was empty except for Nott. He was sitting on his bed as he read with the curtains half-drawn. Harry reached into the trunk and fetched out Riddle's diary before plopping onto his bed, and drawing the curtains around him.

Quill in hand, Harry opened the old book to the middle and began to write.

_"Good evening, Riddle."_

_Good evening, Harry. And please, call me Tom._

_"Will do."_

There was a pause. Harry held his quill over the paper, but couldn't think of anything to write. Luckily, words were forming slowly on the page.

_Is there something bothering you, Harry?_

_"Actually, there is. I don't know if you ever knew a man named Severus Snape. He's one of my professors and the Slytherin Head of House. But even though he is my Head of House, he hates me. It's because of my father. Anyway, I had detention with him earlier this evening, and he always refers to my being famous. He asked something along the lines of 'Can the Boy Who Lived not handle it?' It drives me mad that he does that."_

_I don't know a man by that name. I see where you're coming from, and why you feel bothered by him. But I don't understand why he would call you the Boy Who Lived and why you are famous. Explain._

_"To keep it simple: at the age of one, my parents were murdered by a man named Lord Voldemort. He tried to kill me, too, but failed. I am the only one to have ever survived the killing curse. That's why I am the Boy Who Lived." _

_I see. I may be within a diary, but I have indeed heard of this man named Lord Voldemort. Most people fear his name though. But you are not afraid of this man?_

_"Why should I be afraid of him? Because he killed my parents? Because he killed numerous people? He may have done so, but I am not afraid of him. And I am most certainly not afraid of his name."_

_Very brave of you to say such a thing. But I'm curious as to how it is you survived._

_"I have no idea. I doubt anyone really knows. I doubt even Voldemort knows."_

The next second after writing that, an owl flew in through Harry's curtain and landed on his bed. He quickly wrote for Tom to hold on a moment as he read the letter and Tom responded with an "okay."

_Harry,_

_What the hell happened yesterday outside the Slytherin common room? McGonagall told Ginny, Fred, George, and me this morning that Percy was in the Hospital Wing, and that he was hurt from something you, Malfoy, and Zabini did. I want to know right now what the bloody hell happened! I don't care what time it is. Wear your Invisibility Cloak to the Gryffindor common room. Knock on the portrait when you get there. I'll be waiting. And I don't want any lies._

_Ron_

Harry looked over the letter. Ron's handwriting was even more unorganized than usual and it was obvious the letter had been written quickly. He stared at the last line. 'And I don't want any lies.' It was apparent that Ron was still affected by the fact that Harry had lied to him about where he had been over the summer. But he wasn't planning on lying to Ron about what had happened last night.

Harry folded the letter and put it in his robe pocket before picking up the quill and writing, _"Sorry, Tom, but something has come up. I'll write to you later. Good night."_

_Good night, then._

Almost in one swift motion did Harry put away his quill and Riddle's diary, and then took out his cloak. He walked to the dormitory door, cloak in hand, looking too see if Nott was watching. Nott was fast asleep, so Harry took the opportunity to throw the cloak over him. He then walked out and up the stairs to the common room, which was filled.

Harry walked past Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch captain, and Adrian Pucey, who were going over Quidditch moves and practice times. A couple fourth years that Harry didn't know were talking quietly about Percy Weasley and what had happened.

The fourth years started laughing as Harry touched the stonewall, which opened to reveal the corridor. He rearranged the Invisibility Cloak over him, so it was a lot more comfortable, and he began to walk up to the higher floors.

It took around ten minutes to get all the way up to the seventh floor with all the stairs constantly moving. He passed the statue of Lachlan the Lanky as he rounded the corner.

Harry stood in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, who was snoring lightly in her frame. He knocked on the portrait, trying not to be too loud. ("Who's there?" asked the Fat Lady suddenly, but Harry ignored her.) Less than a second later, the frame opened and red-headed Ron poked his head out, looking haggard but angry.

Ron opened the frame, so he could step out, and then closed it behind him.

Harry took the cloak off, stuffing it into his pocket. They walked about ten feet from the portrait in silence, avoiding each other's eyes. There was obvious tension between the two of them, something that had never happened before. But they both knew why. Ron was angry with Harry, but Harry didn't want him to be. He wanted Ron to know the truth, but he doubted it would help any.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked non-too casually. He wished she were here to help make conversation.

"Inside. She's comforting Ginny, who's upset because of what happened to Percy," Ron said, his face getting redder and redder in anger. "What the hell did you do to him!"

Harry stepped backwards, taken aback by Ron. Sure he had seen Ron angry, but he had never seen Ron so upset like he was now. His cheeks were practically tomato red as he stared at Harry.

"Be quiet, Ron! Someone'll hear us!" exclaimed Harry. He grabbed Ron forcibly by the arm and pulled him along the corridor until they came to an empty classroom. Out of anger that Ron was angry with him and hadn't even heard the story, Harry pushed him into the classroom. He took out his wand after closing the door and muttered, "_Imperturbatus!_" at the door, so that no passersby would hear anything. He remembered the spell from when Snape had done it.

"You didn't have to push me," said Ron, still angry as he rubbed his arm.

"Sorry, but I don't want to get caught. And I doubt you want to eithor," said Harry. He put his wand away and walked further into the room.

"Fine. Just tell me what happened yesterday."

"Well…let me just start from the beginning. On September 1st, when everyone else was on the train, I was at Hogwarts. I missed the train and was brought here earlier by Mr. Malfoy. When I was here, McGonagall told me about how one can go into another House's common room if they have the necessary 'qualities' of that House," said Harry. He had been looking at Ron, but now turned away slightly.

"The first night, I told Draco and Blaise about it. I didn't think they were going to actually do anything with the information, but—"

"Don't try to get out of anything, Harry!" said Ron.

"I'm not trying to get out of anything! I know what I did was wrong! I know I shouldn't have told Draco! But I never said I was trying to get out of anything!" exclaimed Harry.

There was a long silence as neither of them looked at the other. Harry was thinking of all the mean things he could say to Ron that would make him feel better, but he only stared at the floor.

"What happened in the corridor?" Ron asked.

Without turning toward him, Harry said, "Draco decided to put a piece of parchment out in the corridor with the password on it, hoping Percy would want to try to get in. Of course, he tried. The wall slid open and everything, but he stepped in and was thrown back by some sort of force. I don't know what it was. But he hit his head really hard. That's all that happened."

"That's all that happened? _That's all that happened?_ Percy is still in the Hospital Wing!" yelled Ron. "Why didn't you stop Malfoy in the first place? Why did you even tell him about the common rooms? You know what he's like!"

"What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry? Fine! I'm sorry, Ron! Okay?!" Harry yelled back. "But how was I supposed to know what was going to happen?! Tell me! How was I supposed to know?!"

Ron glared at Harry, his face red in anger. He then walked past Harry, his feet thumping loudly on the floor. Harry heard Ron swing the door open and then slam it shut loudly, the sound echoing off the walls of the empty classroom.

Harry felt like banging his fists against the walls, but thought better of it. Instead, he found an old chair and kicked it with immense force, so it slid across the floor and hit the opposite wall. He did that two more times, breathing heavy by the end. It relieved some anger and he felt better, so he threw the cloak over him in one swift motion, as he opened the door and walked promptly away.

----------------------------------

_"Get away from me!" the angry form of Ron yelled at the top of his lungs. He then disappeared before walking out of the room, and Harry was left alone…_

Harry awoke Tuesday morning from having a dream about he and Ron's fight Saturday night. He had had another dream about he and Ron's fight Monday night, too. He rubbed his eyes sleepily. He didn't have to put his glasses on to know that the others were still sleeping; their light snores, except from Crabbe and Goyle whose were loud, filled the room. His watch said that it was almost eight am.

Harry's stomach was rumbling in hunger and he would have to be in class in an hour, so he grabbed his glasses, got dressed, and left the dormitory with his books.

The Great Hall was almost completely full. All the tables were occupied and the Staff table was almost full as well.

At the Gryffindor table was Ron and Hermione, sitting next to Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnigan. Ron glanced up at Harry as he entered, but just gave him a dark look before turning away. Harry sat at the Slytherin table and was later accompanied by Draco and Blaise as he ate.

Tuesday's consisted of Charms with the Ravenclaws, then History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs, and then after lunch, a nice dose of Double Potions with the Gryffindors. He was going to have a marvelous day…

**

* * *

Preview of Chapter 16—Tom Riddle the Memory: **

Harry meets Moaning Myrtle, and later talks with Riddle, finding out what he really is…


	16. Tom Riddle the Memory

"What you need to know about the past is that no matter what has happened, it has all worked together to bring you to this very moment. And this is the moment you can choose to make everything new. Right now."  
-Unknown 

**16**

**Tom Riddle the Memory**

Tuesday's consisted of Charms with the Ravenclaws, then History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs, and then after lunch, a nice dose of Double Potions with the Gryffindors. He was going to have a marvelous day.

Fifteen minutes before nine am, Harry and the others left the Great Hall to go to the Charms classroom, which was on the third floor. They sat through the class, learning a new spell, which he didn't find to be too difficult. He repeated the spell, his wand hand out, over and over until he had gotten the hang of it. Professor Flitwick said they would go over the spell for a few minutes during their next class on Thursday, and then learn a new spell. Harry gathered his stuff, but, unknowingly, left his History of Magic book on the table.

Harry, Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle were halfway down the steps between the third and second floor, making their way to the History of Magic classroom, when he realized he had left his book behind.

"Forgot my book in Charms," said Harry to Draco. "I'll meet you there." Draco nodded and continued down along with the others.

Harry, on the other hand, ran up the stairs, knowing he would have to be quick to make it to History of Magic in time. As he held onto the strap of his bag, he shuffled quickly toward the classroom. He rounded a couple corners until he got to the Charms room just as some sixth years were walking inside.

Sneaking inside, Harry quickly whittled his way through the older students to the desk he had been sitting at with Draco. He found his book still upon the table. After grabbing it and shoving it into his bag, he raced out of the classroom, accidentally pushing a Ravenclaw student as he did so.

The only sound Harry could hear as he ran along the third floor, down the stairs, and along the second floor, were his footsteps as they hit the stone below. He was looking straight ahead as he panted slightly, not noticing the puddle of water he was just about to—

Harry felt himself slip on the water beneath his feet and couldn't keep his balance. The corridor flew past his eyes. His vision of the hall ahead quickly turned into the ceiling above.

He fell backwards, hitting his head hard on the floor. Darkness tugged at the corners of his vision until it was all he could see, and he fell unconscious…

---------------------------------

A loud, high-pitched singing was what woke Harry up. He opened his eyes, but didn't move his body. All he saw was a low stone ceiling. He felt the cold, hard floor underneath him. When Harry picked up his head, he saw he was in an old, deserted, and rarely used-looking girls bathroom.

The back of his robes were wet and had soaked through the fabric, so he could feel it uncomfortably on his back. Some of his hair was wet as well, but he didn't care. There was more water on the floor around him, but where he sat was partially dry.

Harry touched the back of his head and it hurt when he did. He felt a large bump that had definitely not been there before the fall.

The loud singing continued on and it sounded like it was coming from one of the stalls. Harry got up, walking over to the separate partitions and pushed open the only door that was slightly ajar. The door swung open with a small creak.

The ghostly form of a girl in pigtails and almost childish face was floating above the toilet, screeching a song. The girl stopped when she saw Harry standing there.

"Hello," she said in an airy but scratchy voice. "I heard you fall outside my lavatory, so I had some other student bring you in."

"Err…thanks," Harry said before backing out of the stall.

"You can stay if you like. I don't mind. My name's Myrtle," the girl said before flying up into the air and circling around.

"I'm Harry Potter."

"I know you are," said Myrtle. "I've heard girls talking about you."

"What did they say?" Harry inquired, now curious.

"Nothing special," said Myrtle lazily as she continued to fly around. "Only about you defeating You-Know-Who and how you're famous because of it. You know, the usual stuff."

"Oh. I see."

Just then, Harry realized he had been on his way to class when he had fallen. He checked his watch to see that it was just after one o'clock. He had missed History of Magic and lunch. He should be in Potions at the moment. Snape was going to give him detention for sure. He looked around for his bag, but couldn't find it.

From atop one of the stalls, Myrtle said, as if reading his mind, "It's beneath one of the sinks."

Harry ran to it and grabbed it, throwing it onto his right shoulder. "Thanks. Bye," he said quickly. He then ran out of the lavatory and down to the dungeons as quickly as possible.

"You're late, Potter," said Snape. "As much as I dislike taking points from my own House, I don't think I can stand another detention with you, so it's ten points from Slytherin. Now, sit down."

Seeing as Draco was sitting with Blaise, the only seat unoccupied was with Longbottom, so he sat down next to the chubby boy, completely out of breath. Longbottom gave him a side-glance and moved his seat a few inches away from Harry, who couldn't really care. He took out his Potions book and waited for the instructions on their next potion.

A couple hours later, Harry and his friends were in the Great Hall, eating dinner. When asked what had happened to him, he had told them about slipping in a puddle in the corridor and being knocked unconscious. "There was also a ghost there named Myrtle. Do any of you know about her?"

Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle shook their heads, food in their mouths. Pansy Parkinson, who was sitting next to him, turned toward Harry. "You've met Myrtle, Potter?" she said, laughing slightly. "All girls avoid that bathroom 'cause she's in there. Everyone calls her Moaning Myrtle."

Harry laughed at the name. "I can see why."

-------------------------------

All of his homework was officially done. Harry was exceptionally pleased with himself as he closed his Transfiguration book on the table in the Slytherin common room. He had gotten all his weeks homework done. Of course, he would still get homework tomorrow – Friday, but he would have time to do it during the weekend.

He sat back in his armchair, his arms folded, as he thought about his classes. One in particular that he really became fond of was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Others in the school seemed to like the class, too. Professor Parish was a wonderful teacher albeit his occasional habit of being _too_ enthusiastic about the topic. But what everyone liked was the fact that they used their wands and wit instead of reading from the textbook.

Draco, who was sitting at the same table as Harry, was still working on his last bit of History of Magic homework. His face was very close to the parchment as he scratched away. Harry got up, picking up his books, quill, and inkbottle to go downstairs.

Draco looked up at him. "You're done?" Harry nodded. "Where're you going?"

"Downstairs. I'm going to put all my stuff away," said Harry, indicating all the things in his arms. Draco nodded and returned to his work.

As he walked down the stairs, he realized he hadn't talked to Draco about that time during the summer when he had heard Mr. Malfoy yelling at Draco. He obviously wasn't going to tell Draco he had heard the argument, but Draco had clearly been upset by it. There had been so much stuff going on – homework, the incident with Percy, getting in trouble with Snape – that he hadn't had time to dwell on it. And if he didn't even have time to think about it, he certainly didn't have time to talk about it with Draco.

Harry put his books and parchment in his trunk, but kept his quill and ink with him. After looking around the dormitory to see it was empty, he took out Riddle's diary. He jumped onto his bed and opened it to any random page, quill in hand.

_"Good evening, Tom."_

_Good evening, Harry._

_"I was just wondering…what are you? How is it I'm talking to someone, who was once alive or is maybe even still alive, when you're inside a diary?"_

_Excellent question. I was wondering when you would ask that_, wrote Tom. The words faded before these appeared: _I'm a memory of my sixteen-year-old self. At sixteen, I transferred a part of my soul into this diary as a lasting memory of myself._

_"You were able to do that at sixteen?"_

_Yes. And I'll say it was not the best process to undergo. But I did it._

_"Taking a part of yourself hurt…badly?"_

_I must admit that it was quite painful. Much more than I had expected. But I was able to bear it and lived through it._

_"That was the other thing I wanted to ask you: is your future, my present, self still alive?"_

_Yes, I imagine so. Well actually, he must be._

_"Must be?"_

_It's difficult to explain. But, to put it simply, because I'm in this diary, my future self must be alive._

_"I still don't quite understand."_

_I'm a part of my past and future self. Without me there in my body, I'm in two. It is as if I'm two separate people, but of the same entity. I'm ensuring my future self lives. Do you understand?_

_"Sort of. I understand that you're a part of you, but if you're gone from yourself, how does that ensure your other self will live?"_

_Good question. A part of me is here, so even if the solid part of me is harmed somewhere else, this part of me in this diary still remains. As long as I am safe in this diary, my other part cannot die._

"_I understand. So, do you know what your future self is doing now? Or where he is?"_

_To those questions, I have no answer. My future self could be anywhere, doing anything._

_"To get a part of your sixteen-year-old self into the diary, what did you have to do?"_

_Let's not get into grotesque details. It's much too complicated for a twelve-year-old, like yourself. Let's just say that it involves more than just brainpower, a complicated spell, and a part of yourself. It's an intricate process._

_"Sounds like the Dark Arts."_

_It is._

Harry read the two words, his eyebrows raising slightly. Just as he finished reading, the door to the dormitory opened. In walked his best friend, Draco, who was carrying a couple of books.

"What're you doing?" Draco asked.

"Nothing." Harry tried to hide the diary by putting it inside his robes, but he knew Draco had already seen it.

As Draco opened his trunk and put away his stuff, he turned to Harry, a smirk on his face. "You can't hide it from me…considering I already saw it," said Draco. He walked over to Harry. "You were writing in a diary."

"No, I wasn't."

"There's nothing to be ashamed of," Draco said, manipulatively. He turned his head away slightly, but his eyes were still focused on Harry.

Harry reached into his robes and took out the diary. "I can prove to you," Harry said, as he opened the book, "that I haven't written in it. Look!" He flipped through the pages as Draco watched. All the pages were completely blank.

Draco looked up from the book, a curious expression on his face. "But why do you have a quill and an inkbottle out? Surely you must've been writing."

"I was just about to write a letter," Harry said, closing the diary.

"Now that you remind me, I have a letter I must be writing myself," said Draco.

"Okay."

Without another word, Draco, somewhat quickly, left the room. Harry instantly knew Draco was writing a letter to his father. For what reason, he had no clue.

----------------------------

A week had passed. Nothing exceptionally new had occurred. Harry overheard from a Ravenclaw a few days ago that Percy Weasley had been released from the Hospital Wing by Madam Pomfrey.

Potions was getting worse because of Snape. Their professor criticized all the potions of the Gryffindors…and Harry's. Snape didn't say anything to any of the other Slytherins. He gave Draco ten points for making a half-way decent potion, but Harry, who had made the potion better, got nothing but a snide remark.

The Dark Arts class, on the other hand, was getting better since Parish was teaching them simple defense spells. Harry, Draco, and Blaise walked into the Dark Arts class on Friday afternoon for their double period.

After they had taken their seats, Professor Parish began, "Good afternoon, all. I thought we could continue with learning defense spells. You all seem to like them, so we'll continue for as long as we can. Today, we'll be learning the Disarming Charm. I'm sure most of you have heard of this spell, and quite possibly have already performed it," he said, taking a moment to look around the room.

Harry had used the spell before. He had attempted to disarm Quirrel while they were in the room with the Mirror of Erised, but had failed since Quirrel had been too quick.

"Does anyone know or remember the spell?" Parish asked.

If Hermione had been in the class, she would have raised her hand immediately, but this Dark Arts class was with the Ravenclaws. Not many of the people in the class knew the spell apparently because only a couple people had raised their hands; Harry included.

But Parish called on Terry Boot, who said, "The spell is Expelliarmus."

"Correct. Five points for Ravenclaw," said Parish. For a moment, he said nothing and seemed to be looking around the room, but not at the students. "Everyone stand up. Make a line against the back wall, please."

The whole class stood up, pressing themselves against the wall and door as Parish stood in front. When they were all lined up, Parish took out his wand and did a tricky maneuver with it, making half the desks, chairs, and bags go left and half go right to be against the walls.

"Starting from Padma Patil onward, you're going to try and dismarm me one by one. The spell is Expelliarmus. It's okay if you don't get it on the first try," said Parish. "Okay. Patil, you're up."

One by one, they all managed or tried to disarm the Dark Arts professor. He didn't do anthing to prevent them from disarming him. He actually just stood there, giving them encouragement and pointers every now and them. Boot, who had been fifth in line was the first to disarm Parish. Afterwards, Michael Corner and Harry succeeded in doing so also.

By the time they had left the classroom, almost everyone had managed to get Parish's wand out of his hand. On their way down to the Slytherin common room, Harry, Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle bumped into Ron and Hermione, who seemed to have come from Charms.

"Oh, look! It's Weasley and Granger," said Blaise with fake glee to Draco and Harry.

Draco glared at the two standing before him. Ron, still angry at Harry from their argument, which had occurred just over two weeks ago, glared at Harry. Hermione gave a dirty look to Draco, but then turned to look at him. Harry knew she wanted him to make them go away. They all felt the beginnings of a fight coming on.

"No, Zabini," said Draco, with a smirk. "It's the _Weasel_ and the _Mudblood_."

Draco had called Hermione a Mudblood once before now, but still she gasped at being called that, as did Ron. Even Blaise turned to look at Draco. Crabbe and Goyle did nothing at first, but then began to nodd agreeably.

"How dare you call Hermione that, you git!" cried Ron, his face turning red. He took out his wand, pointing it at Draco. Draco and Blaise took their wands out, too.

But Harry didn't want them to fight. All of them were his friends, but he didn't know what to do to stop it. His eyes caught Hermione and he mouthed, "Make Ron stop!" Hermione nodded to him. He saw her reach into her pocket and mutter something under her breath.

Ron's wand began to sputter red and blue sparks and wouldn't stop. Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle began to laugh uncontrollably. Hermione mouthed, "You, too!"

"What are you going to do now, Weasley?" Draco asked, in between laughter.

Harry reached into his right robe pocket where his wand lay. Pointing his wand from inside his pocket at Draco, he muttered, "_Exepelliarmus!_" He did it again, taking a couple steps back to aim at Blaise. One wand after the other, flew into the air and landed a ways behind Ron and Hermione. Draco and Blaise looked dumbfounded.

Sparks still flying from his wand, Ron began to laugh. "What about you, Malfoy? What are you going to do now that you have no wand?"

"Let's just go, Ron," said Hermione. "We don't need to waste our time on scum." She gave Draco a dirty look. Afterwards, she grabbed Ron's sleeve and pulled him away from them down the corridor.

Draco called after them, "Looks who's talking! You're the scum, Granger!" He then walked over and picked up his wand. Blaise followed suit, putting it into his pocket. "How the hell did they get our wands away from us? Blaise, did you make Weasley's wand go mad?"

"No. That wasn't me," replied Blaise.

They turned to Harry questioningly. "Yeah, that was me," he lied.

Blaise gave him a smirk. "Nice one."

---------------------------

The dormitory was deserted except for Harry. The others didn't feel like putting their books away, instead they set them down on one of the tables with their bags on the ground. But Harry went down by himself and practically threw his books and bag into his trunk.

Just as he was about to go back upstairs to relax with the others, he heard a hooting from his bed. He looked back to see Hedwig with a letter.

_Harry,_

_I just wanted you to know that I told Ron what you did earlier to stop the fight and he told me he was glad you did. He wanted me to tell you that he's not angry with you anymore and he understands that you couldn't have known what the common room would have done had someone not been worthy. The only reason he isn't writing this to you is because I told him he had to finish his work on his own instead of copying it from me. But I want to clarify that Malfoy is a git and if you get the chance, hit him for me. Your friend,_

_Hermione_

Harry gave a small sigh of relief that Ron wasn't angry anymore. He laughed slightly when Hermione wrote that she wanted him to hit Draco. After putting the letter away, he walked out of the dormitory towards the common room to go relax with Draco and Blaise.

A/N: Whoa! A few interesting things happened in this chapter! Aren't you lucky?! Just so you know, although I will mention it, the next chapter skips to the middle of October. In case you don't know when this particular chapter is, it's the third week of September, so I'll be skipping about a month to get to some more interesting things.

**

* * *

Preview of Chapter 17—One And The Same: **

Harry finds that the he and Tom are very much alike, and a conversation between he and Draco arises about Mr. Malfoy…


	17. One And The Same

"Will and intellect are one and the same thing." -Baruch Spinoza 

A/N: Keep in mind that I don't know where Dumbledore's office, or anything other place I have tunnels lead to, is in relation to the Slytherin dormitories. I'm making that part up as I go along, so if something seems far-fetched, then it quite possibly might be. Anyway, enjoy the chapter!

**17**

**One And The Same**

The air was becoming slightly more crisp as the middle of October was now upon them. When the wind blew, it seemed to make its way through the robes of students to chill their skin. Leaves from trees in the Forbidden Forest were falling and the winds carried them to the school grounds. No one dared go into the Black Lake, but just by looking at it, one might feel colder, knowing the water was chillingly bitter.

A small shiver ran down Harry's spine as he passed the Black Lake, broom in hand, to go to Quidditch practice. The practices had started last week to get ready for the first match: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Slytherin Quidditch captain Marcus Flint made the team go to the pitch three times last week and this was the fourth time going this week. They stayed out late each night they practiced, and the day after practice, Harry was always so exhausted, he never wanted to go to class.

Harry got to the pitch to see the others already in the air practicing. He got onto his broom and flew quickly into the air. Flint saw him and came over.

"Where the hell were you?" asked Flint, but he didn't wait for a reply. "We've all been here for ten minutes already. I want you out there, practicing you arse off! Now, go!"

Flint took the Snitch out of his pocket and threw it into the air. Harry saw the little, golden ball fly into the air and then quickly flutter away. He knew what to do; Flint had gone over it at least a hundred times already: throw the Snitch into the air, wait, and the go after it.

So, as he waited, his eyes wandered around the Quidditch pitch to see what the other players were doing. Flint, at the moment, was talking…or rather yelling at the two Beaters, Bole and Derrick.

"If you have to, hit the Gryffindor team with your clubs! I don't care! The team is just blood traitors and girls anyway! Do what have to!" yelled Flint before flew to Adrian Pucey and Terrance Higgs, the other Chasers, and Miles Bletchley, the Keeper.

Harry thought Flint was going to start practicing with the other Chasers, but he was dead wrong. His captain only went over there to yell some more. "Higgs, I am allowing you to be rough in the game! I'm allowing all of you to be!" He turned to see Harry looking at him. "That goes for you also, Potter!" Flint took the Quaffle from Pucey after he turned back. "For all I care, you could go and knock someone off their broom during the game! Just don't let Madam Hooch catch you! You want to win? So play like you want to win!"

Flint, the Quaffle under his right arm, dashed forward toward the goal where Bletchley was. On the way to the goal, he maneuvered his broom, so the back hit Pucey hard on the side and then hit Higgs' broom, making him almost fall off.

Harry's mouth dropped open slightly. He had seen Flint act so irrationally during a practice, but never this much. The team must be doing horrible today in Flint's eyes. As he thought about it, he realized he had been there for over fifteen minutes and hadn't caught the Snitch yet. Harry looked away from the goal posts in search of the tiny, golden ball.

A couple seconds later, he turned when he heard someone loudly groan in pain. Bletchley was hovering at the middle of the goal posts, a lot further down than he had been mere seconds before. Flint had a large smile on his face. "_That's_ how you make a goal!"

Pucey and Higgs turned to each other uncertainly, but after being there for over an hour, they seemed to have taken on Flint's new way of getting things done on the Quidditch pitch. In that hour, Harry had caught the Snitch many times and was pleased with himself.

But Flint had come over before the end of practice, telling him he needed to be more aggressive in how he caught the Snitch. But Harry didn't know any other way to catch a Snitch except quickly and with determination. But he tried nonetheless. As he saw the Snitch and flew after it, out of the corner of his eye he saw Flint watching, so he decided to make some sort of grunting-yelling noise. He caught the Snitch, out of breath, and turned to his captain. Flint seemed to be pleased and flew off quickly.

------------------------

Tons of students were outside. It was Saturday afternoon and the sun was out, shining brightly over the Hogwarts grounds. Harry, Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle were outside under a large tree that was overlooking the Black Lake as they did work.

Harry was reading the next chapter for Transfiguration from his book _Guide to Transfiguration_, but he couldn't concentrate on the words. He kept looking at the Black Lake. The water was glistening as the sun shone on it. There was a light breeze, which made the water ripple across the surface.

He felt something against his right shoulder, which made him turn quickly. Goyle was trying to see the page he was turned to. "Thirty-two," Harry said to Goyle, who sort of grunted in reply.

Harry leaned against the large tree, surveying the area around him. Some students were sitting outside doing work, while others played chess. Harry turned to stare at the grass since he didn't want to read. A shadow crept across the grass he was watching. The shadow seemed to have some sort of form to it; Harry tilted his head to see what it was. It looked like…a raven or bird of some sort from the way the land slanted. He looked at it for a while, but then peered around the tree.

Professor Parish was standing there reading from a book. He looked up as if he knew someone was watching him. Parish nodded to Harry, who nodded back. Harry turned to look at the grass, but the form of the raven in the shadow was gone. He joined in the conversation that had started between Draco and Blaise about the Transfiguration reading they had to do.

---------------------------

Later that day before dinner, Harry was going over Quidditch moves with Flint at a table in the common room. It certainly wasn't the most pleasant conversation he had ever had. Every time he tried to make a comment or recommend something to help the team, Flint would say his idea was bad or just ignore him.

But he only had to endure sitting at the table with the Slytherin captain for a half an hour. When the talk was over, Flint got up to terrorize Higgs about the practice on Thursday evening. He knew that because he was mumbling to himself about what he was going to say.

Blaise was over in the corner of the room, talking to Nott and a first year boy. He noticed Parkinson over by the fire; she was running her fingers through her hair as she talked to her small group of friends. Harry looked around the room more, but Draco was nowhere in sight. Harry went downstairs to the dormitory, but he wasn't there either. He was probably writing another letter to his father.

Though he was curious as to where Draco was, he was happy no one was in the dormitory. It gave him another chance to write to Tom.

Promptly, Harry took out the diary. Quill in hand, inkbottle on the bedside table, he began to write.

_"Hello, Tom."_

_Hello, Harry. How was your day?_

_"Fine, thanks. My friends and I worked outside for a while and then lounged around inside the common room."_

_Sounds nice. I used to do things like that with my friends._

_"Who were your friends back when you went to Hogwarts?"_

_Abraxas Malfoy, Avery, Rosier, and Lestrange._

_"The only name I have heard of is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy is my best friend."_

_So, you too hold the friendship of a Malfoy. Hmm. They are a sly and crafty family that's for sure. That much everyone knows, I think._

_"Some people think they are worse than that."_

_Some people? Who do you mean?_

_"I told you I was in Slytherin, but…"_ The words faded away. Harry had never told anyone, who didn't already know, that he was friends with Gryffindors.

_Yes?_

_"But I am friends with two Gryffindors. They are the ones that don't like Draco very much,"_ Harry wrote. "_But I guess I can't blame them since he insulted them."_

_Hmm…who are these Gryffindor friends of yours?_

_"You wouldn't know one of them. She's Muggle-born. The other you might. His name is Ron Weasley."_

_A Weasley! There was a Weasley two years older than myself. He too was in Gryffindor. People called him a blood traitor._

Harry knew Tom was holding back the insults he had for Ron and Hermione. _"I know you want to insult Ron and Hermione. Why don't you just do it then, if you think they are so below you, Tom?"_

_They are your friends, Harry. If you want to have them as your friends, then you can. It's your choice, not mine._

_"Do you think lower of me now that you know I have Ron and Hermione as my friends?"_

_I'm not one to judge you, Harry._

_"Tell me! I want to know! Do you think lower of me now?"_

_Yes, I do! I have never met a Slytherin, who prided himself on being friends with Gryffindors._

_"I don't pride myself on being friends with Gryffindors. I just am friends with them. What does it matter if I am anyway?"_

_You're friends with a Mudblood and a blood traitor, so that makes you a blood traitor yourself, Harry. That's why it matters!_

_"You can only be a blood traitor if you're a pureblood. I'm not a pureblood. Therefore I'm not a blood traitor of any kind."_

_Than what are you?_

_"I'm a half-blood. And for you information, I don't pride myself on being that either! I just am."_

_Do Malfoy and your other friends know you're a half-blood? And that you have friends, who are Gryffindors?_

_"To the first question: yes. Everyone who knows me or knew my parents knows I'm a half-blood. But I guess everyone else knows, too. Remember I told you I was famous? People probably know my background since I'm the Boy Who Lived. To the second question: only Draco, but he doesn't like it at all."_

_Since you've told me so much and I've told you nothing, I'll let you in on a secret I've kept from everyone my entire life: I'm a half-blood as well._

_"You're a half-blood?! Why didn't you say anything?"_

_I didn't say anything because I've kept that secret from everyone. I was a Slytherin, too, and all my friends were of pureblood decent. They wouldn't have been so accepting of me had they known what I really was,_ Tom's words faded away and new ones reappeared. _You're the first person I told, Harry. The only other person, who knew was a man named Albus Dumbledore._

_"I know Albus Dumbledore. He's Headmaster here at Hogwarts."_

_When I went to Hogwarts fifty years ago, Dumbledore was the Transfiguration teacher and Head of Gryffindor House. I see he's made his way up the ladder._

_"I suppose so."_

_Since we seem to be baring our souls in a way, I tell you something else: Dumbledore was the one that told me I was a wizard. You see, before I was eleven, I had no idea that the things I could do were magical because I lived in a Muggle orphanage._

_"I'm an orphan, too. But I know I already told you that."_

_It seems we are a lot alike, Harry; both orphans, both half-bloods. Of all the people to have crossed my path and come across my diary, it was you. You and I are practically one and the same._

_"It seems we are practically one and the same, Tom,"_ Harry wrote. _"The only difference is_ _I never lived in an orphanage. I live with my aunt, uncle, and cousin. Sometimes I wish I were put in an orphanage rather than live with people who hate me. But there's nothing I can do about it now. I have nowhere else to go."_

_You always have a choice, Harry. There's always a choice, even when you think there isn't one. Remember that._

_"I will."_

------------------------

Harry was sitting between Blaise and Nott in the Great Hall as he ate. A loud buzzing was in his ears since everyone was talking at the same time. Students around him were chewing and laughing loudly. He looked to the door every now and then, wondering when Draco was going to show up.

The doors opened and he turned toward them. Ron and Hermione, talking, walked into the room. They went to Gryffindor table. He turned back to his plate.

Twenty minutes into dinner, Draco arrived. Harry didn't know the reason, but Draco didn't look pleased. He sat down at the end of the table, away from them, but didn't eat anything.

When they were all back in the crowded common room, Draco just sat lazily on one of the couches, looking miserable. No one seemed to notice or care. Harry walked over to the couch and leaned against the side, his arms folded. He looked to his right at Draco, who just stared ahead.

Seeing his best friend troubled changed his manner and he unfolded his arms. Instead of standing, Harry moved around to sit on the couch opposite the one Draco was sitting on. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm perfectly fine," said Draco, a bit of sarcasm in his words.

"Is it...is it your father?" Harry asked slowly. He remembered the conversation they had had during the summer, but had never talked of again. Maybe they finally would.

Draco nodded, not looking at Harry or meeting his eyes. He hadn't the whole evening, Harry realized.

"Remember the time I came back to your house in the summer after I had already gone?" Harry asked. Draco just nodded in reply. "Well, I heard you and your dad yelling as I walked up the stairs. Does it have anything to do with that?"

Draco looked up at him very quickly. "Did you hear anything?"

Harry looked at his friend very carefully for a few seconds even though he had already decided he was going to lie. There was no way he could tell the truth. His best friend's face looked, oddly enough, panicky and uncertain. The color he had in his pale face was now completely gone.

"No."

"Good," said Draco, relieved. He then quickly added, "Not that it was important or anything. You just don't want to hear my dad and me yelling at each other. It's not that pleasant to listen to."

Harry nodded, but he knew there was something wrong. He knew there was something between Draco and Mr. Malfoy, and that is had something to do with him, he just didn't know what.

Harry stood up from the couch. "I have to finish some stuff." As he walked to the stairs, Blaise called his name, but he just kept walking. At the middle of the stairs, he stopped, leaning against the wall. He couldn't stop thinking about the fact that something odd seemed to be going on with the Malfoy's, but he had no idea what.

As he stood there, he put his hands in his trouser pockets, leaning against the wall even more.

Suddenly, the wall he had been leaning against disappeared and he fell backwards.

When Harry got up, he saw he was in the tunnels he had found last year. He had completely forgotten about them. He took out his wand and muttered, "_Lumos!_" The tunnel walls around him lit up slightly more, but not by much. He turned and saw that where the opening had been before was now closed, like last year. Except this time, he knew how to get back.

So, Harry continued forward, wand in hand. He kept his wand in front of his chest to get the best light, so he could see in the dark tunnel. He couldn't see anything ahead of where his wand light hit and behind him was almost complete darkness.

After ten minutes of walking through a tunnel that slowly curved upward, he came to another tunnel, branching off the first. The second tunnel went to the right. Harry pointed his wand into it, but it looked exactly like the tunnel that went straight. But he already knew where the straight tunnel led to, so he turned and made his way further into the other tunnel…

-------------------------

A/N: Keep in mind that the reason Tom Riddle is telling all this to Harry is so that Harry will trust him more and be able to open the Chamber faster. And we'll start getting into the main plot of Riddle's diary starting in chapter 19.

1. Supposedly, there had been older people named Rosier and Lestrange. And there definitely were two Avery's: one being friends with Tom and the other being friends with Snape. I'm just making up the fact that AbraxasMalfoy (Draco's grandfather) had been a friend of Tom's.

2. Not canon. I made up the fact that there had been a Weasley two years older than Tom.

**

* * *

Preview of Chapter 18—Restricted Section:**

A branch of the tunnel leads to the Restricted Section of the library; from seeing the books, Harry gets an illegal idea that he and Draco could try to accomplish, but they can't tell anyone…


	18. Restricted Section

"Difficulties increase the nearer we get to the goal."

-Goethe

**18**

**Restricted Section**

After ten minutes of walking through a tunnel that slowly curved upward, he came to another tunnel, branching off the first. The second tunnel went to the right. Harry pointed his wand into it, but it looked exactly like the tunnel that went straight. Since he already knew where the straight tunnel went, he turned and made his way further into the other one, curious as to where it led.

For a while, the tunnel went straight as it slowly curved upward, but then it twisted slightly to the left, still going up. After walking for what seemed like an hour, which in reality had been a half-hour, Harry came to what looked like a door without a handle or hinges.

Harry shone his wand at it to get a better look, and was completely dumbfounded by the door-like thing before him. He walked forward, switching his wand to his left hand to put his right hand over the door so he could see if there was anything to press. But there was nothing. So he decided to push the door slightly.

He didn't expect anything to happen, but the right side of the door pushed in and the left side came out toward him as it revolved slowly. He took a step back. As he watched the door swivel in its place, Harry saw that there were a couple seconds where he could squeeze through into the next room.

The door stopped rotating. Instead of the door looking like a wall, as it had before, it now looked like a bookshelf. He reached over to take out a book, but they were fake. Harry realized that this part of the wall was a secret door to what seemed to be the library. He pressed his hand against the wall again and waited as it rotated once more. When there was enough room to slip through, he did and found himself, just like he had thought, inside the library.

Harry found that he was at the far back. From the titles of the books and the sections around him, he knew he was in the Restricted Section. He pointed his wand at the books as he glanced at some of the titles in the "Transformations" section. One of them was titled Animagi: How To Become One and another was Transforming Into Your Animal.

Last year, he and Draco had spoken once about Animagi. He remembered they were people who could willingly and voluntarily turn into animals. But first, one would have to go through an intense process of changing their body into that of an animal's. Just the sound of it seemed difficult. Anyone could figure out that it was though.

As he looked at some other titles of books, concerning the process of becoming an Animagus, Harry thought about what animal he might be if he were to become one. He supposed the animal someone became was based on his or her personality. But he really had no idea what he would change into.

Harry was definitely curious though. He took the book Animagi: How To Become One off the shelf. Maybe the process wasn't as hard as it seemed, but he seriously doubted that. He put the book into his left robe pocket to look at later on.

Obviously, no one could know about this. But he didn't want to go through it alone, so he decided he would tell Draco and see if he wanted to become an Animagus with him.

Just under an hour later from leaving the library, Harry was back on the steps between the Slytherin common room and the dormitories. "_Nox!_" he said before stowing his wand in his right pocket. His watch said that it was a couple minutes to ten pm. He walked up the steps to the common room, hearing voices as he walked closer.

There was still a lot of people in the common room, lounging around. The sixth year boys, sitting at the longest couches had their feet up on the cocktail table as they laughed about random things. A bunch of third year girls were gathered around a table in the corner as they talked nastily about some girls in Hufflepuff. People were gathered in small groups all around the room.

Near the opening of the common room were a couple of armchairs put together. Sitting in them were Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle. Draco was the first to see him. "Where the hell were you? Did you disappear?"

"No, I was in the dormitory. I was just finishing some work I forgot to do," he lied.

"Pull over a chair," said Goyle. There was an empty one at the table the third year girls were talking at. They didn't seem to notice him, so he took the chair and dragged it toward his friends.

"Speaking of disappearing," said Blaise mischievously. "We haven't done anything of interest in a while. I still have that stash of items we took from Filch's office, Harry."

"I agree. We need to do something interesting before I get bored. The thrill of our last misdeed is wearing off," said Draco, obviously thinking about the situation of what happened to Percy Weasley.

Although Harry didn't want to anything as bad as the Percy-deal, he did feel like doing something mischievous. The thrill of doing something unruly in the middle of the night was very tempting at the moment.

"We can talk about what to do during the week," said Blaise, "And then carry out our plan on Friday or Saturday night."

"That's a good idea," said Crabbe. "What d'you think, Malfoy?"

"Yeah, it's a good idea," he said. "I'll think of something during the week."

"Me, too," said Harry.

There was a moments silence as Blaise and Draco seemed to be thinking about what they could do next week. Crabbe and Goyle just sat there, but Harry wanted to talk to Draco about his new idea.

"Draco, I want to talk to you about something," Harry said, turning to his best friend. Draco just looked at him, waiting for him to talk. But he wanted it to be in private; not that he had anything against Blaise, Crabbe, or Goyle, but he just wanted do something as complicated as becoming an Animagus with the person he trusted most. "In private."

Draco nodded and stood up. Together, they walked to the corner of the room, where there were less people. It was also somewhat quieter.

"Yes?" Draco asked casually.

Harry took the book out of his pocket, showing the title to Draco, who took it in his hands curiously. " 'Animagi: How To Become One'?" His friend looked up at him incredulously. "You want to become an Animagus?"

"Not on my own," said Harry, looking at Draco. "I was hoping we could become Animagi together. We'll help each other through it." As he had been talking, Draco had been slowly nodding. A small half-smirk, half-smile had appeared on his face. "What d'you think?"

"I think I want to read this book," Draco replied. He was now smiling.

"Good! I didn't want to do it on my own," Harry said. He lowered his voice, "But we can't tell anyone. Don't tell Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle…_or your father._"

"I'd never tell my father about this," said Draco. "But we _really_ can't tell anyone we're going to do this. I know more about the Ministry of Magic than you, and what we're going to do is illegal. Just so you know. Students aren't allowed to do stuff like this because we're not over seventeen. We'd also need the Ministry's permission, which we're not getting. Usually, the Ministry watches over the people that are preparing to become Animagi because it's so difficult. For us to be fully-fledged Animagi, it _will_ take years. I hope your ready for it."

"Don't worry, I am," said Harry with a small smile. He pointed to the book. "I'll be reading that for the next week or two to see what we need to do in the long run. I'll get some books later on for you, so you can do some reading, too. You're off your trolley if you think you're not going to be reading as well."

"Get me a book and I'll read it. Don't worry," said Draco, glumly. He, obviously, didn't want to do the reading. "Where'd you get this book anyway?"

"Restricted Section of the library," said Harry, almost proudly. "I snuck in," he lied.

"Nice one!" Draco handed the book back to Harry. "I'll have to go with you next time."

"No!" he said, too quickly. "I mean…it's easier when it's just me. I can sneak around better. You know."

"Yeah, I understand."

"Okay, good," said Harry, as he stuffed the book back in his robe pocket. One of the corners was sticking out since it was too big, but no one would really notice. "Let's get back to the others. They're waiting for us."

The two of them walked back and sat down in there empty seats; another conversation began between them until they decided it was getting late, and went to sleep.

------------------------

"Hmm…"

Harry was sitting on a couch in the Slytherin common room, the Animagus book in his hands. He had begun reading the book earlier that weekend and now it was Tuesday night, and he was just over halfway through reading the book, which was fairly large.

Draco and Blaise, he knew, were over on the other side, playing some Chess while Crabbe and Goyle were pigging out in the Great Hall. The two of them tended to be in there a lot, in fact. They often brought back tons of snacks and continued to eat on one of the couches.

That night, there were a lot of people in the common room and there was a light buzzing in the air from students talking, but no one was noticing him or bothering him as he sat there in his own world.

Harry had learned a lot from reading this one book, particularly that the transformations were severely complicated. It was no wonder people got help from the Ministry; one mistake with it and you could end up half-fish, half-human. It would definitely take a long time to finally complete the whole process.

But Harry had learned that though the process was complicated, there was a spell the Ministry taught the beginners: the spell was "Animagus." It was a spell almost all used at the beginning, which would temporarily change them into an animal. At first, the changes were only minutes at most, and then slowly got longer. After some time and practice, those wanting to become real Animagi and change at will, could.

The book gave a lot of information, but no real details. He and Draco would have to do some serious reading and, from what he had already read, a lot of experimental work to become full-fledged Animagi.

This will _definitely_ take a long time.

Harry turned the page and read on, as the talk around him continued.

-------------------------

For some reason, the professors were giving a lot of work. McGonagall, Snape, and Binns had given them much more work than necessary that day. He also finished Monday and Tuesday's homework just so he wouldn't have to do it later. It took Harry and the others at least two hours to finish all their work.

When Harry finished, his right hand ached from writing so much. He threw down his History of Magic book against the table loudly. Draco stopped writing for a moment to look up at him curiously, but then continued.

"Finished," said Harry with relief.

"You're lucky then. I got one more inch to write for Snape," said Draco.

"I'm gonna bring my books down," Harry said. He picked up his pile of books, quill, and inkbottle, holding it all in his arms with difficulty. "Be back soon." Draco nodded without looking up as he wrote feverishly.

Harry, still holding all the books, slowly made his way down the stairs. He inclined his head to the left, so he could see the stairs and wouldn't trip down them. Slowly but surely, he made his way to the dormitory. He put his books at the edge of his bed, knowing he would put them away later.

Looking quickly at the door, Harry opened his trunk and took out Riddle's diary. He grabbed the quill and inkbottle from his bed, and moved to the small, circular table near the door. He sat down in the only chair there, moving the jug of water away from the diary.

A blank, parchment-colored page was in front of him now. His quill was in his hand, hanging over the page. But Harry was wondering whether he should tell Tom about he and Draco's plans of becoming Animagi. Well, Tom couldn't tell anyone; he was a memory stuck in a diary. So, he didn't see any harm in doing so.

_"Good evening, Tom."_

_Good evening, Harry._

_"In case your wondering, my week, besides all the homework, has gone very well."_

_That's nice. What made it so marvelous?_

_"I don't know if you know, but from the middle of the stairs that go to the dormitories, there are tunnels that lead to different places around the school. I found the tunnels last year by accident, but found them again a couple days ago since I had forgotten about them. I went down a different route than last year and eventually came to the Restricted Section of the library. While I was there, I came across books about becoming an Animagus, and after coming back, Draco and I decided we would try to become Animagi. What do you think?"_

_So, you and Malfoy are attempting one of the most difficult tasks a witch or wizard could attempt. I applaud you. It won't be easy and will, quite possibly, take a couple years. But you seem like your willing to make the sacrifice of time to become a rare entity. Also, I've never heard of those tunnels before. I wish I had though._

_"I know it'll take years. But I'm prepared for it. Now, after reading half a book on Animagi, I really want to become one. I'm glad I don't have to go through it alone. Draco is just as excited about it as I am."_

_Do you have any ideas about what animal you might become?_

A/N: Sorry to leave you hanging so oddly, but the rest of what Harry and Tom write to each other needs to be part of the next chapter. You'll see. Reviews are much appreciated!

**

* * *

Preview of Chapter 19—The Strange Daydream: **

After talking to Tom, something very odd happens to Harry …


	19. The Strange Daydream

"There is no use worrying about things over which you have no control."

-Stanley C. Allyn

**19**

**The Strange Daydream**

_Do you have any ideas about what animal you might become?_ Tom asked.

Harry watched as the words faded away. He had thought about what animal he might turn into, but couldn't figure out what that might be. The animal he would become was something he didn't get to choose; the animal was based on his personality and who he was as a person. But what animal was he most like? What about Draco?

_"Honestly, I have no idea. I'd have to think about it more. What animal do you think you would become, Tom, if you were to be an Animagus?"_

_A snake. I've always liked snakes. And, knowing myself, I have a certain similarity to them. In a way, I'm like a snake. They are charming, intelligent creatures, and I pride myself on being like that._

_"Well, atleast you know. I guess I'll find out when I first try the transformations, but since the process is so complicated, I'll probably find out in a couple of years."_

_I'm sure you will, but at the moment…_ The words faded before new ones appeared. _There's something I would like you to do for me…_

Suddenly, something changed…

_Walk… _his legs carried him forward without thought… _go up…_ he walked up each stone step…voices called his name… _ignore them and continue…_ he was in the corridor…not many people around… _go up two more flights…_ he continued on, not really understanding, but followed nonetheless… _walk inside…_ the room was small and he faintly recognized it…someone nearby was singing loudly… _no distractions…concentrate…walk towards it…stop…_ hands on cold porcelain…he felt himself speaking something, but it was as if someone was speaking through him…he couldn't control it…he couldn't stop it…words flowed out of his mouth…he heard a loud clicking…somehow he knew something had just been unlocked…someone was laughing…oddly enough, it seemed to be in his head… _ha-ha-ha…_

Harry blinked many times before realizing he wasn't in his dormitory any more. Around him was the small, slightly damp stonework of the girl's bathroom, which Moaning Myrtle stayed in. She was singing loudly about death in one of the stalls.

How had Harry gotten there? The last he could remember was sitting in the dormitory, writing to Tom. Being three floors up and not remembering how he had gotten there frightened him. His heart began to beat a little faster.

"_…and then he was killed instantly!_" Myrtle sang noisily.

Turning on his heel, Harry ran out of the girl's bathroom and all the way down to the Slytherin common room, passing a group of students now and then as he did. After he stopped, he leaned against a wall. Opposite him was the opening to the common room. His head rested against the wall, as his chest heaved and he breathed roughly. Not knowing why, Harry placed his palms against the cold wall at his sides. It felt oddly soothing.

When the stone door slid open, Harry looked up suddenly as he took his hands away. Draco accompanied by Crabbe and Goyle walked out. Draco saw him and asked, "Where the hell did you go? Zabini and I called to you, but you just walked out of the room—really fast actually. We were just gonna go look for you."

Harry just stared at him, not knowing what he was talking about. He didn't remember walking out or being called to. He didn't remember any of it. The panic from within his mind must have been showing on his face because Draco walked closer and asked very seriously, "Are you okay?"

"Err…yeah. I'm fine," he lied.

Draco just narrowed his eyes, looking incredulous. But he didn't press on. Crabbe and Goyle were near, watching intently through small, beady eyes.

Without saying a word, Harry walked into the common room; the others followed suite.

-------------------------

A scream ripped through the near pitch-black darkness.

Harry awoke with a start and sat up in bed. The fire in the fireplace had gone out. He couldn't see anything in the darkness; it didn't matter whether his eyes were open or not. "What's going on?" he asked quickly. "Who screamed?"

Someone was breathing rapidly and someone else was stumbling in the darkness. Harry grabbed for his glasses in the dark, and just as reached them, Nott muttered, "_Lumos!_" He did the same with his wand.

With his lit wand, Harry moved to the edge of his bed, pointing it around the room. He stopped when the light spread over Draco, who had pressed himself against the headboard of his bed and was shaking slightly.

Harry was just about to jump off his bed to walk over to Draco's, but stopped short when he saw what was on the floor. The others must have seen it just as he had because all of a sudden the room was filled with the sound of six boy's screaming loudly.

Covering most of the floor were hundreds, if not thousands, of little black spiders, which were crawling creepily upon the floor. There were rows and rows of them; they seemed to be walking in lines as they inched toward the door. More were coming through a large crack between two stones in the wall.

Their screams continued until the dormitory door flung open quickly. Standing there was Snape, wand in hand, looking shocked at the sight before him. He receded into the hall behind him, and disappeared from view.

A couple seconds later, bright blue flashes sped into the room, hitting the floor and the spiders upon it. The spiders were thrown backwards, making parts of the floor visible once more. More flashes came into the room one after the other until there was a clear path, but the spiders were crawling back quickly.

"Get out of the room! Hurry up!" called Snape.

Nott and Goyle were closest to the door, so they leapt off their beds and were out of the door first. Afterwards, Crabbe, Blaise, Harry, and Draco followed. Harry looked back before going up the steps to see Snape getting the other students from their beds. He then turned away to follow his friends.

Not much later, all the Slytherin students were in the Great Hall, sitting sleepily at the Slytherin table. The ceiling of the room was like the cloudy night sky outside – bright stars and misty clouds hung above them. Both light and loud snores filled the room as more and more students fell asleep.

Harry was resting his head on his folded arms, slowly drifting off to sleep. Draco, who was sitting beside him, had already fallen asleep; his mouth was partly open. Someone near him was mumbling in his sleep. He picked up his head to see Goyle's mouth moving ever so slightly. He checked his watch, which said it was close to two in the morning, before resting his head again on his arms.

Five minutes later, the Great Hall doors opened. In walked Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape. Harry looked up to watch Dumbledore, who flicked his wand a couple times. The three other House tables were pushed to the left wall and then two were lifted off the ground, so that the tables stood on top of each other. With another flick, seventy-one purple sleeping bags appeared on the floor. But most of the students were already asleep at the Slytherin table.

Just above a whisper, Dumbledore said, "For those who are still awake, you may sleep in the sleeping bags. Good night to you all." He then walked out of the room, trailed quickly by Snape.

About forty students got up from the table to choose a squishy, purple sleeping bag to snooze in. Harry was among them. After getting into a sleeping bag, he didn't bother taking his glasses off; he just left them as he fell asleep instantly.

------------------------

The Slytherins were awoken the next day by the students of the other Houses. Students wearing red-striped, yellow-striped, and blue-striped ties stood in the doorway, looking utterly confused. They were mumbling to themselves about why the Slytherins had spent the night in the Great Hall.

Harry, groggily, got out of his purple sleeping bag. He took off his glasses that had become lopsided on his face during the night, and rubbed his weary eyes. After putting his glasses on, he fixed his pajamas and tried to flatten his unruly hair. As his fingers ran through his hair for the fourth time, he felt a hand tap him on the left shoulder.

The hand turned out to be Draco's, who was yawning beside him. His yawn must have been contagious because Harry yawned, too. Just as Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle joined them, Professor McGonagall pushed through the murmuring students at the door.

"Quiet!" she said. McGonagall faced the students at the Great Hall door. "The Slytherin students stayed here last night due to an incident with spiders. The sleeping bags will be removed and the tables will be brought to their original places, but you must be patient." She then turned to the Slytherins to say, "I suggest you all go back to your dormitories, which are void of all spiders now, and change into your robes. You might as well get your books for class."

Silently, the Slytherin students left, pushing, rather violently in Flint's case, the other students. When they got down to the Dungeons, they found it clean of all creepy critters. After Harry and Draco changed, and gathered their books for the days classes, they went back upstairs.

During breakfast, Draco complained about his stiff neck since he had slept at the table uncomfortably, but Harry just ignored him. He, too, had slept badly and couldn't stand listening to his friend moan anymore.

But, eventually, breakfast did end, and he found himself walking toward the Greenhouses for Herbology along side the Ravenclaws. Professor Sprout stood at the end of a very long table covered in ceramic planting pots, which were all full of dirt. Protruding from some of the pots were stems and leaves. And oddly enough, there were pink furry earmuffs on the table, as well. They all looked at Sprout with curiosity.

"What the bloody hell is this?" Draco said to Harry, who just shrugged. "I'm not putting those things on." He pointed toward the earmuffs that lay on the table in front of him.

"Good morning, class," Professor Sprout said with a large smile. "Today, we'll be repotting Mandrakes. Can anyone tell me what Mandrakes are?" She looked around the group expectantly, and then pointed to a Ravenclaw boy, who had his hand raised. "Yes, Goldstein."

"Mandrakes are plants that go through several stages of development before becoming mature," said Goldstein from further down the table. "In the end, Mandrakes can be used for healing purposes. Also, when a mature one screams its fatal."

"Very good! Now, we're going to repot the Mandrakes. You're going to stick your hand in the pot with the Mandrake, take it out, and quickly put it in the fresh pot," said Sprout. "See the earmuffs, everyone? Take one now and cover your ears with it. Like Goldstein said, the cries of the Mandrakes are fatal. Of course, without the earmuffs you'll only be unconscious for a while since these aren't mature Mandrakes, but best be cautious."

Since Harry had put the earmuffs on, everything seemed oddly muffled and distant. Beside him, Draco had grabbed the earmuffs with great speed; it was obvious he didn't want to be killed by one of those things in the pots. Harry saw Sprout mouth the words, "Everyone's good? Okay. Watch closely!"

Sprout stuck her arm, with the rolled up sleeve, into the pot, taking out the ugliest thing Harry had ever seen. The Mandrake looked like a wrinkled, gray baby with leaves coming from the top of its head. She then put it into the second pot, which was beside the first. After she had put dirt over the top of the Mandrake, she took off her earmuffs. The rest of the class followed.

"Now that you've seen what to do, I want you to gather into three's and take two pots: one with a Mandrake and a fresh pot without. Don't forget your earmuffs!"

After a very noise-less class, Harry followed the other Slytherins into the castle to meet up with the Hufflepuffs for the Dark Arts class.

"That was the weirdest Herbology class, I ever went through," said Draco. He rubbed his ears as they made their way up the stairs to the first floor. "Good thing we couldn't hear those things."

"Can you imagine if someone had died from one of those Mandrake-things," said Blaise. "What an awful way to die."

Harry listened to the conversation and talked when he had something to say. He felt tired from not having gotten a lot of sleep, and picked up his seemingly heavy legs to go up the stairs.

Suddenly, he heard a voice – an inhuman voice.

"_Let me rip you…tear you…let me kill you…_"

Harry stopped in his tracks, but Draco and Blaise hadn't noticed, and continued on. "_Rip…_" The voice seemed to be going up the stairs. Curious, he ran up the steps, pushing the others out of his way to follow it. "_Kill…_"

The voice was heard going to the right, so Harry trailed it. The only thing he couldn't understand was why he saw no one around. Where was this person, if it was a person, he was following?

But just as quickly as he had heard it, it was gone. The voice was gone and he heard no more.

Footsteps stopped a good ways behind him, as he stood half-way down the corridor. Two people were heaving slightly behind him, and Harry realized he, too, was panting.

"What the bloody hell are you doing, Harry?" Draco asked.

Harry turned to see Draco and Blaise, looking at him curiously. "I—heard a voice," he said slowly.

"What voice?" asked Draco, slightly annoyed. "I didn't hear anything." He turned to look at Blaise.

"Well, I didn't hear anything either," said Blaise. He turned to Harry. "Are you _sure_ you heard something, Harry? 'Cause you do look quite tired. Maybe it was just a daydream or something."

"No! It was real. I know it. I heard it!" said Harry. "Are you sure you _didn't_ hear anything?"

Both Draco and Blaise nodded as he walked toward them. Harry nodded grimly to them, not understanding why he had heard the voice and they hadn't. But suddenly it dawned upon them that they were very late for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and they made their way to class.

----------------------------

Harry crept into the spider-free dormitory towards his trunk. Draco and Blaise were in the common room while Crabbe and Goyle were still in the Great Hall. He put his schoolbooks away, taking one specific book out.

He wanted to talk to Tom about something in particular – his strange daydream.

_"Good evening, Tom."_

_Good evening._

_"There's something I wanted to talk to you about."_

_Yes?_

_"Well, yesterday, after I was writing to you, I found myself three floors up. I don't remember when I stopped writing to you or going upstairs. Could you tell me what happened? Do you know what happened?"_

_All I know is that we were talking and suddenly you stopped writing to me. I just figured something had come up and you couldn't respond anymore. I thought you would start writing back in a few minutes, but you never did. I really don't know what happened._

_"That's okay. I was just curious."_

Harry held his quill, but looked away from the diary. Nothing could explain why he had suddenly blacked out. He didn't want to be, but he was worried about it. What if this was the beginning of something serious? Maybe he was sick or going crazy.

No, that would be ridiculous, Harry knew. But yet the pang of worry didn't leave him.

A/N: People asking if Harry's going to turn into a stag, like his father. No, he will not. But his Patronus will still be a stag. Why? Because the Patronus shows that he's like his father, but a stag is not i his /i personality, its his fathers. So, Harry will be turning into a wolf instead. Draco will be a fox. But they won't be turning into those animals until possibly 4th year. Sorry for the wait. Hope you enjoyed this story.

**

* * *

Preview of Chapter 20—A Bloody Hallows Eve Pt. 1: **

The writing on the wall is written on Halloween…by Harry…


	20. A Bloody Hallows Eve Pt 1

"Shadows of a thousand years rise again unseen, voices whisper in the trees, 'Tonight is Halloween!'"  
-Dexter Kozen

A/N: For those who don't know, Hallows Eve (or All Hallows Eve) is Halloween.

**20**

**A Bloody Hallows Eve Pt. 1**

Now that it was the end of October – the day before Halloween, in fact – it was beginning to get cold. Not exceptionally cold, but one could feel it as they walked toward the Greenhouses or just went for a stroll, which usually didn't last long, around the Black Lake. Crystallized morning dew could be seen when looking out windows, but now that it was evening, and all the students were inside the Great Hall, the little gems of frozen water that reflected in the early morning light were no more.

The Great Hall was filled, most likely in anticipation of the next evening's feast. The talk of students and teachers was abundant in the hall, as they all sat, eating and drinking and laughing.

Harry sat somewhere in the middle of the Slytherin table, facing the rest of the hall. Draco sat to his left while Blaise sat to his right. They were eating ravenously, especially Harry, who had just come back from a tough Quidditch practice, which were getting longer and more violent since the next Quidditch match was drawing near.

Draco whispered to Harry, "Did you finish that book?"

"What book?" he asked, thinking of Riddle's diary.

"The Animagus book."

"Oh! No, not yet," whispered Harry, "But I was thinking of getting a bunch of books next week. We need to get some more reading done 'cause we need more information. We can't try the transformations without knowing what we're getting ourselves into."

"I want to get some books, but no one can know what we're doing," said Draco. "We can't read these books in front of everyone. Not in the common room."

"That's a good point," said Harry. He thought about the different rooms in Hogwarts, and after a moment it hit him. "The Room of Buried Secrets! It's the perfect place. We can bring our books there and read. No one but us knows about the room. We could even leave the books in there if we have to."

Draco nodded. "Yeah, that'll work." He then went back to his plate of food.

As Harry ate, he remembered the time last week when he had heard that inhuman voice in the corridor. Luckily, he hadn't heard the voice since then, but he had thought about it, and had thought about telling Tom, but hadn't. Harry had already told him about the odd daydream; he didn't want to add to it and have Tom think he had gone mad.

The past week, Harry had been left wondering: who did that voice belong to? Surely, it wasn't human. Could it be a creature that accidentally got into the castle, like a Banshee or something? And he remembered what the voice said: rip, tear, and kill. Who or what would say that…and why?

But he was brought out of his thoughts when he heard someone's voice behind him. "Good evening, Malfoy, Potter, Zabini," said the deep-voiced man. Harry turned to see the ghostly, semi-transparent form of the Bloody Baron – the Slytherin ghost. He nodded at the ghost, who gave him a nod back.

"You're looking quite grim, young Potter," said the Bloody Baron, no smile or smirk on his own face. He just stared at Harry with a mixture of boredom and annoyance, but it seemed to be because of something else.

"So are you," Harry said, turning in his seat to face the ghost.

"Yes, well, I have my reasons," the Bloody Baron said. He looked across the hall, and Harry followed his gaze. He seemed to be looking at Nearly Headless Nick.

"Bothered by someone in particular?" Harry asked.

"If you must know, Potter, yes. Nick has been going on and on about his 500th Death-day party tomorrow night. I'm really not looking forward to it. It's going to be dull, as always."

"Death-day party?" Draco murmured to Harry.

"Couldn't you just not go?" asked Blaise.

"What reason would I have?" asked the Bloody Baron. "It's not as easy as it used to be. In life, you could say you were sick or had somewhere else to be, but there's none of that anymore. Besides, I've known Nick for a long time." He glanced quickly at Nick, and then turned back to the three of them. "Well, must be going."

"Bye," said Harry, Blaise, and Draco in unison.

Towards the end of dinner, Harry was getting really full and couldn't stand the sight of food any longer, so he decided it was time to leave. But Draco and Blaise were immersed in conversation that had begun with what they thought the Death-day party was like and then it lead into what they thought it was like to be a ghost. All they had to do was ask the several ghosts that were lingering around the House tables, which Harry pointed out, but the other two said they didn't want to. When he asked whether they wanted to go to the common room, they said no.

Fine by him. He got up and left the Great Hall, entering into the Entrance Hall. Loud footsteps were heard coming up the stone steps from outside. Harry stopped and waited by the front doors for the big-bearded, large over-coated man.

"Hiya, Hagrid!" Harry said to Hagrid, who was carrying two large, very orange pumpkins.

" 'Ello there, Harry!" Hagrid said cheerfully. "How are yeh?"

Thoughts of the daydream, the voice, and the fact that he and Draco were planning on becoming Animagi ran through his head. "Fine. How about you?"

"I'm doin' great, Harry!" Hagrid shifted the pumpkins in his arms to a more comfortable position. "The pumpkins finished growin' in me garden for tomorrow evening. And yeh know what? Parish told me that Muggles dress up on Halloween!" he said as he gave a hearty laugh. "Imagine that! He said that some Muggles even dress up as witches an' wizards." He laughed again. Harry couldn't help but smile slightly. "Well, I'm gonna bring these inteh the Great Hall, and then we can talk more over some tea. Yeh haven't been teh me cabin in a while now."

"Okay. I'll wait here."

Harry watched as Hagrid trudged into the semi-crowded Great Hall, but no sooner did he turn the corner, did Harry hear that eerie, inhuman voice.

"_Come to me…I will rip you…let me kill…_"

Oddly enough it seemed to be coming from above, and he looked up, curious. There was nothing in sight, nothing but the stone ceiling overhead. Harry took a couple steps toward the stairs that led to the first floor, but the voice disappeared. He was about to follow it when he heard someone call his name.

"Harry!"

He turned to see Ron and Hermione emerging from the Great Hall. They had smiles on their faces and looked happy to see him, but Harry just looked at them blankly, still thinking about the odd voice.

"You okay?" Ron asked, walked toward him.

"I…uh…heard something," said Harry.

"Heard what?" His red-haired friend asked.

"A voice. I've heard it before, but…did either of you hear it?" he asked.

They both shook their heads. "Whose voice is it?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," said Harry as he shrugged. "No one's around when I hear it though. I don't see anyone. And it doesn't even sound human." He brought his hands to his forehead in frustration. He couldn't believe he had told them. "Now, you think I've gone mad or something."

"No, Harry, we don't think your crazy," said Hermione.

"Speak for yourself," said Ron jokingly. Hermione have him a dark look.

"What does the voice sound like?" she asked.

Hermione seemed genuinely curious, so he continued. "It's hard to describe. It's creepy, sort of airy, and…sinister. It always mentions--"

"Hello, Ron! Hello, Hermione!" called Hagrid from the Great Hall doors. They all turned quickly. "Harry and me were gonna have some tea. Why don yeh come along, too?"

Not five minutes later, they were all inside Hagrid's small, but warm and comfortable cabin. Fang, Hagrid's boarhound, was sleeping on a rug by the small fire in the fireplace. Hagrid was by his stove, making the tea. The three of them were sitting around the table in large chairs. None of their feet touched the floor. As they were waiting for their tea, the conversation continued in hushed voices.

"What was it you were saying, Harry?" Ron asked, quickly glancing at Hagrid.

"I was saying the voice is very sinister because it mentions…well, it mentions killing," whispered Harry.

"Killing?" asked Hermione, her eyes slightly wider. Harry nodded.

"A voice that belongs to no one that, so far, only Harry can hear is roaming the halls, wanting to kill people," said Ron. "This doesn't sound good."

Harry thought of telling them about the daydream, where he had completely blanked, but he didn't want them thinking he really was going mad. He wanted to keep them as friends. Besides, he hadn't even told Draco.

"What doesn't sound good?" Hagrid asked, bringing over the mugs of steaming tea.

"Nothing!" said Harry, too quickly. "I mean, it's nothing. It doesn't matter."

"Well, what are yeh two up to?" Hagrid asked of Ron and Hermione before he sipped some tea from his mug.

"Not much, actually," said Hermione. "Not a lot is going on right now."

Harry felt quite the contrary, but didn't say anything. Half of what he was thinking about would make him sound mad and the other half was a secret.

"What a 'bout yeh, Ron?"

"Nothing much going on with me either. I can't wait for the Halloween feast tomorrow though! I always look forward to it," he replied.

Hermione laughed a little. "Yeah, because you eat everything in sight."

"Oh! I wanted to ask you something, Harry," said Hermione, turning to him. "Susan Bones told me that all the Slytherins had slept in the Great Hall last Wednesday. Said it was because of spiders. Is that true?"

"Yeah, it's true," said Harry. "I woke up in the middle of the night because someone had screamed. And after Nott lit his wand, I saw that there were tons, I mean _tons_, of spiders. We screamed because they were crawling everywhere and then Snape came in to help us. We all had to sleep in the Great Hall that night."

Ron shuddered as he picked up his mug. "Gross. I hate spiders."

Harry continued, "But there was one weird thing though. The spiders seemed to be moving in lines, like they were marching. I just found it really odd." He then took a long sip of tea that ran warmly down his throat.

"That is odd," said Hermione.

Ron put down his mug. "I'm so glad I didn't have to see them. I hate them."

"Yeh shouldn't hate somethin' just 'cause yer afraid of it, Ron," said Hagrid, very seriously.

"I'll try not to hate those horrible, creepy little monsters," said Ron sarcastically.

"I'm not joking, Ron. Spiders aren' monsters. There aren' any monsters. There are just creatures."

Harry could tell Ron wanted to say more about spiders, but Hermione interrupted him. "How have you been, Hagrid?"

"Pretty good, actually!"

The four of them talked for another forty minutes about nothing in particular, and even had another round of tea. Fang eventually woke up and kept trying to lick Harry, Ron, and Hermione's faces, but Hagrid would, fortunately, pull Fang away. But he eventually succeeded when he managed to get past Hagrid to jump onto Harry's lap and started licking the left side of Harry's face.

So, when Harry left Hagrid's cabin, he had been completely slobbered on. After the three of them got to the Entrance Hall, they separated. Harry left for the Dungeons, trying to get all the slobber off his robes and face before entering the Slytherin common room.

--------------------------

"Finally," said Draco as he dropped his three large textbooks onto a table in the common room. He then plopped into an armchair beside his books. Crabbe and Goyle sat themselves down in the chairs on either side of him.

Their last class had finally come to an end and they couldn't be happier. In a couple hours, the whole school would be in the Great Hall, enjoying the Halloween feast.

"I like the Dark Arts class and all, but if Parish starts making his stupid jokes again, I think I'm going to throw something at him," continued Draco.

"You mean like the way you almost did today after you couldn't get the spell right," said Blaise. He began to laugh and Harry joined in.

"Oh, shut it, Zabini," said Draco, who then got up, grabbing the books from the table. "I've got some things I have to do in the dormitory." Books in hand, he left.

Harry sat in Draco's empty seat, placing his books on the table to finish some homework. Blaise sat across from him, also doing work. Crabbe and Goyle still sat there, attempting to finish their homework with whatever brainpower they had.

For almost an hour, the two of them worked in near silence. Harry managed to complete his Transfiguration and History of Magic essays, and was nearly done with his Potions essay when he heard an owl swoop by him and go down the stairs. The owl looked familiar, and he realized it was Draco's owl, which he used to send letters to his father. But he just minded his own business, going back to his own work.

Less than two minutes later, Harry stopped his work when he heard Draco walking towards him, his owl perched on his raised, bent arm. "Letter from your father?"

Draco nodded. "I'll send Mider on his way, and then I just need to finish the last bit of my Potions essay before the feast."

Harry nodded, turning back to his work. He heard his friend leave through the wall opening. Five minutes later, he was pleased that he had finally finished all his work. Blaise, sitting opposite him, was still working away.

"You finished?" he asked.

"Yeah. Need help?" Harry asked as he gathered his books, inkbottle, and quill. Blaise shook his head, so, arms full, he left the common room.

Going down the stairs, he almost dropped his inkbottle, but managed to keep everything in his arms until he reached his bed, where he placed it all. He placed the stuff in his trunk, and was about to go upstairs when he felt the urge to write to Tom.

Why not write to a friend before the Halloween feast when you have some time? So, he got out the diary, jumped onto the bed so his feet hung over the side, and began to write.

"_Hello, Tom. Happy Halloween!"_

_It's Halloween? Lovely. I always enjoyed it._

_"Was there a large, wonderful feast back then, too, with ghosts flying around and pumpkins?"_

_Yes, that's what the feasts were like fifty years ago as well._

_"If you don't mind me asking, what did you do during the holidays, like Halloween and Christmas, at your orphanage?"_

_Nothing particularly exciting, if that's what your wondering. I didn't have many friends at the orphanage. In fact, I didn't have any friends. So, during Christmas, I hardly got any presents. Halloween was nothing special either. We had a small feast and would carve pumpkins. The younger children would dress up as different "things," like ghosts and mummy's. I think you know what I'm talking about since you grew up around Muggles. But I never enjoyed any of it. It never helped me or was pleasing in any way._

_"That's sad you say that. I can imagine that being in an orphanage would not be the most enjoyable, but you should have been able to find some happiness while you were there."_

_Occasionally, we would all be taken to the seaside. I guess that was enjoyable._

_"You don't always have to dwell on the sadness and misery of things, Tom. There is happiness and delight in the world. It may not be there all the time, but it's there."_

_Not for all of us, Harry. You of all people should now that. You who had your parents murdered and who has to live with horrible Muggles during the summer. You should know._

_"I do know. I know all about misery, Tom, and I have no doubt that I will continue to, but life's not just misery."_

_You may be right, Harry,_ /I wrote Tom. I _In the meantime, there's something I would like you to do for me…_

As Harry read the words, something changed, but he had no idea that it was happening…

_Leave it underneath the pillow…walk…_he obeyed, leaving the room behind him…_continue on…_his feet carried him up the steps…_don't look around…keep going…_his hand touched stone…the corridor was around him…_don't stop…up the steps…keep going…_it was silent all around him…no people in the corridors…_stop…_there were loud footsteps…a familiar voice…_don't say anything…wait…_the footsteps trailed away…_go inside…to the back…all the way…stop…_the place was familiar…a wall was before him…_grab it from the table…cut…_he felt a sharp yet distant pain…blood…_deeper…_he dug it deeper into his skin…more blood…_touch it…write the words…_his fingers, wet with blood, wrote words upon the wall before him…

Harry came out of a daze to see the Great Hall before him. He was standing at the back, behind the High table, looking around the empty hall. It was highly decorated for Halloween with pumpkins and candles floating about, bats hung upside down from the beams above, and spider webs had been placed around the room. To see the hall better, Harry walked around to stand in front of the table.

Suddenly, Harry felt a sharp pain on the back of his left forearm. When he looked at what had caused the pain, he was shocked to see a large cut. It was bleeding profusely, and some blood had gotten on his rolled up sleeve. There was also some blood at the tip of his right index and middle finger.

But he didn't know how he had gotten the cut or what had caused it.

Harry turned around to look at the High table. There before him was something out of place: a dinner knife, covered in blood.

Without a second thought, he grabbed for the knife, but stopped mid-way when something caught his eye. Upon the wall were large words written in blood – his blood. The words shone eerily in the candlelight, and Harry couldn't help but stare at them in shock and horror. Deep down, he knew he had written those words.

He grabbed the knife and stowed it in his pocket. Students and teachers would be arriving soon for the feast, so he had to get out of there quickly. He had to clean his arm and fingers, and change into blood-free robes.

As fast as Harry could, he ran from the Great Hall, not daring to look back at the dark red words he knew were there; words that were so big, they could be seen from the doorway and even from the hall, words that he couldn't get out his mind's eye.

Behind him, those words shone menacingly as a warning to all.

**THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN**

**OPENED, AND SO THE HEIR SHALL COMPLETE**

**SLYTHERINS TASK. ENEMIES BEWARE, FOR**

**HE WILL COME FOR YOU.**

A/N: So what do you think? I want to know. Tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, tell me what you think should happen in the future. Anything! But it would be nice if it pertained to this chapter. What I'm saying is…review! Thanks!

By the way, Draco's owl's name (Mider) is the name of the Celtic God of the Underworld.


	21. A Bloody Hallows Eve Pt 2

"Nothing beats a haunted moonlit night on All Hallows Eve... And on this fatal night, at this witching time, the starless sky laments black and unmoving. The somber hues of an ominous, dark forest are suddenly illuminated under the emerging face of the full moon."

-Kim Elizabeth

A/N: For the first time ever, I've written in an omniscient view and not Harry's. That's what the first part is, then it switches back, and then it's an omniscient view again. Just so you know. Enjoy!

**21**

**A Bloody Hallows Eve Pt. 2**

Feet were shuffled quickly and people were pushed past, so the students and teachers could make their way to the Great Hall for the annual Halloween feast. Everyone was excited for the wonderful food they would be eating, and for the decorations they would be seeing. So much so that a small crowed had formed at the front of the Great Hall doors, as the first people there, waited to be let in.

A suit of armor, wrapped badly in toilet paper to look like a mummy, held a trumpet to it's "mouth." When it was finally seven pm, the trumpet sounded throughout the Entrance Hall, and the doors magically opened. The students there cheered, and the first few in front were about to run in to get seats, but blood-red words shown before them, and they stopped.

Since the first students had stopped so suddenly, the others couldn't help but do so as well. And soon, the whole crowd had stopped to see the words written on the back wall of the Great Hall. Someone had even grabbed the trumpet from the suit of armor, so it would stop playing. But it didn't help that more and more students were adding to the crowd.

It was not two minutes later, and the Entrance Hall was packed. Students in the back, who couldn't see what was going on, were beginning to push the others and some were even shouting for them to move. Well, they did. The crowd slowly moved into the Great Hall, making their way closer to the High table, not noticing the Halloween decorations, only the wall before them.

All the students could now see what was written on the wall – those eerie words that, to most, held no meaning at the moment, but in time would.

The Great Hall wasn't as silent as one would have thought. There were murmurings throughout the crowd. People were whispering about what the Chamber of Secrets was, and though others had turned away, not wanting to see the words, but there was one thought on everyone's mind: Who was Slytherin's Heir?

Percy Weasley came strutting into the hall, his silver badge, gleaming, on his chest. "What's going on? Everyone take a seat! Come on! The professors are coming! Everyone—!" He stopped when he saw the words, becoming instantly silenced.

No one turned to see the look on his face since they all had a mixture of the same look: shock, wonder, curiosity…and fear.

The sound of Percy Weasley's footsteps running from the Great Hall, bounced off the walls, making the sound even louder. Draco Malfoy, followed by Blaise Zabini, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle, strolled in just as Percy was leaving, noticing instantly the odd silence within the hall. And then he saw the words. Instead of staying silent like all the others, he began to laugh.

The sound of Percy's footsteps disappeared, and now Draco's looming laugh filled the hall ominously….but not for long. Not thirty seconds later, Percy was back, this time with Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall. Dumbledore turned to Draco with unusually stern eyes as he walked in, and he instantly stopped.

The crowd opened up for him, like the Red Sea, allowing the Headmaster through. Dumbledore had an almost haunted and troubled look on his face, though none of the students could see since they stood behind him. The Headmaster stood before the High table, directly in front of where he usually sits for meals. The words gleamed before him, and he could only stare, horrified that this was happening…again. /p

**THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN**

**OPENED, AND SO THE HEIR SHALL COMPLETE**

**SLYTHERINS TASK. ENEMIES BEWARE, FOR**

**HE WILL COME FOR YOU.**

----------------------------------------

Meanwhile, Harry was in a boy's lavatory that was in a corridor off the Entrance Hall. Blood had soaked part of his sleeve since the self-inflicted cut was still bleeding. Luckily, nothing had gotten on the floor as he ran from the Great Hall, and so far nothing was on the floor of the loo.

Ice cold water ran freely from the tap, but he couldn't be picky. Harry cupped his right hand slightly, trying to catch some water in it. He bent his left arm, letting his elbow rest uncomfortably on the edge of the white porcelain sink. Taking the water, he splashed it multiple times at his bloody arm. The diluted blood ran down the sides of the sink into the drain.

The wound was still open, so it stung, but not as much as when he took the bar of soap, and rubbed it gently over the cut. Harry cried out in pain, dropping the blood-covered soap to the floor. He gripped the area where the cut was with his right hand, waiting for the pain to subside.

After it had, he picked up the soap, and did it again, clenching his teeth while he did. Though he would have preferred not to, Harry used the soap because he knew the wound had to be cleaned and he needed to wash away some of the blood that had started to dry.

As Harry cleaned his arm, he thought about the words on the wall. "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened." He knew about the Chamber of Secrets – Dobby had mentioned it to him over the summer, warning him about it. And then at the Burrow, Hermione had read a passage to Ron and him from Hogwarts, A History.

If it truly was open then that would mean Slytherin's monster, controlled by Slytherin's Heir, could rid the school of the Muggleborns, just like Salazar Slytherin had wanted. But the book said the Chamber of Secrets was a theoretical place. Harry certainly hoped so.

But the lingering sound of Hermione's voice, from over the summer, haunted him as it said, "But if Dobby is worried about it, maybe it isn't theoretical; maybe it actually exists."

Two minutes later, the blood on his arm and on his two fingers were gone; washed away. Just for the time being, he wrapped his cut, which was still bleeding a little, in toilet paper. He wrapped it as tight as he could without having the thin paper break, and then covered it with his sleeve.

That's when Harry realized, he had the bloody knife in his pocket. He took it out carefully, not wanting to get blood on his hands again. After cleaning it quickly, he decided to leave it on the sink. If someone saw it, they wouldn't know Harry had been the one to use it. It was just a knife. He let it lay eerily on the white porcelain as it wobbled slightly.

As Harry withdrew his arm from placing the knife, he realized his sleeve had an area where the blood had soaked through. Even though his robes were black, he couldn't go out with blood on his sleeve. It was still noticeable if someone looked close enough. So, he scrubbed at his sleeve with the bar of soap and some water. He hoped his whole sleeve wouldn't be drenched by the time he was done.

Five minutes later, his sleeve was wet, now with a mixture of blood that he couldn't get out and water. He thought of spells he could use to get rid of the blood and one came to mind, so he took his wand out. Harry couldn't believe he hadn't thought of using a spell before.

Harry had seen Snape do the spell in class several times to clean the contents of a cauldron. He just hoped he could do it without having anything go wrong.

"_Scourgify!_"

Miraculously, the sleeve of his robe was now dry and blood-free. But his large cut was still there – he could feel it stinging beneath his makeshift bandage. He had to get something to heal his wound. Maybe there was a spell or quick potion he could make. As far as he was concerned, the wound had to disappear because if anyone saw it, they might realize that it had been he who had written the words.

Harry put his wand in his right pocket, and decided it was time to leave. Unfortunately, to get down to the Dungeons, he had to walk past the Great Hall, where he knew large amounts of people were. But, as he walked by, he couldn't help but look into the hall from the doorway. No one noticed him since almost all of them were staring straight ahead, and he, too, looked forward.

The words, made up of his blood, were dripping slightly down the wall, looking even more menacing than before.

In front of everyone else was Dumbledore with McGonagall, who was standing somewhat behind him. When had he arrived?

Footsteps of a couple of people sounded in the Entrance Hall, edging closer toward Harry from behind. He turned to see Sprout, Flitwick, and Snape. Sprout put her hands up to her mouth, Flitwick looked away, and Snape, after giving Harry a dirty look, stared ahead at the wall, looking curious.

Harry wanted to leave, but Snape kept glancing at him. If he left while everyone else was still in the Great Hall, it would look very suspicious. But the stinging of the cut was growing steadily as he stood there.

Just as Dumbledore turned to face the massive group of students and fellow professors, pain shot though Harry's arm since he had accidentally hit it against the doorway. He grunted in pain, grabbing his arm, and Snape turned to look at him. The people around him became, if it was possible, even more quiet as they watched their headmaster.

"I am disheartened by the fact that we will not be able to have a Halloween feast this evening. I'm sorry, but I must have a meeting with the staff at this time. It is of utter importance," said Dumbledore. He quickly nodded at McGonagall, who walked though the students that made a path for her to leave.

While she walked away, Dumbledore quickly faced the wall, waving his wand slowly at it from left to right. A thick, dark red curtain, like one from a stage, appeared out of nowhere from the left, slowly covering the back wall as Dumbledore moved his long wand.

Dumbledore turned back to them. "For those who are hungry, I will make sure that food is brought to your common rooms."

There were some students scattered in the back and even some as far back as in the Entrance Hall. Harry didn't realize it, but he had subconsciously walked closer toward the crowd in front of him. A Hufflepuff boy, who looked to be a fifth year, walked forward also, but accidentally hit Harry's left arm as he did.

Pain shot through his arm again. Harry grabbed it tightly, but he couldn't stand the pain anymore – it was time to leave, even if it did look suspicious. So, as Dumbledore continued to speak, he snuck out of the Great Hall.

Harry didn't know it, but Snape was watching him out of the corner of his eye.

He was just about to pass through the doorway, but almost bumped into someone with red hair whom he hadn't noticed. "Oh! Sorry," he quickly muttered. Harry then realized it was Ginny Weasley and stopped. Her warm, brown eyes, which looked at him with curiosity and slight nervousness, seemed to be searching him over. But Harry didn't want her to see that he was gripping his left arm tightly in pain or that he was scared because he knew he had covered the wall in bloody words.

She opened her mouth, about to say something, but he walked away in a hurry, not giving her any time to. Snape's eyes followed him until he was around the corner and going down the stairs to the Dungeons.

When he felt the Great Hall was a far enough distance away, Harry began to run towards the Slytherin common room. For some reason, it seemed to clear some of his thoughts as he focused on his feet hitting the stone floor, instead of what was going on upstairs.

A minute later, he was in his dormitory, kneeling at his trunk as he searched for a small book in particular – the spell book Hermione had given him. It didn't take long to find it, but then he had to find the right spell, something that would heal his wound.

Harry took his wand out when he came across the right spell. He rolled up his left sleeve to see that the toilet paper was completely soaked through. He pulled the toilet paper off, letting it fall to the floor. His wand was now aimed at his large cut.

"_Episkey!_"

Seeing as Harry was a second year wizard, who wasn't experienced, it was any wonder his wound healed at all. When he looked at his arm, he found the cut had closed; it wasn't bleeding anymore. Unfortunately, the large, red but sligtly faded wound was still visible. Hopefully, with time it would eventually heal and fade completely.

Harry grabbed the bloody, makeshift tourniquet off the floor and tossed it into the bin, covering it carefully with the junk already there. He then put the spell book back into his trunk. As he did, he realized that he didn't know where Riddle's diary was. He had been writing to Tom just before he blacked-out, but couldn't remember where he had placed it.

Suddenly, the door opened. Harry turned to see his friend Blaise standing in the doorway. "Harry, there you are! We were looking for you," he said. "Did you see what was upstairs in the Great Hall?"

"Yeah, I saw."

"I've never heard of the Chamber of Secrets before, but just now one of the older students was talking about it in the common room. He said Slytherin keeps a monster in there that's going to get rid of all those filthy Muggle-borns. He also said the Heir of Slytherin can control the monster and can pick out who he wants to kill. I think he said he got all this information from a book," said Blaise, excitement in his tone. "Anyway, there's food in the common room if you want some." He then closed the door.

Harry was frustrated that he didn't know where Riddle's diary was, and Blaise talking about the Chamber of Secrets hadn't helped. And although he was hungry, he didn't feel like going upstairs and being around other people. So, he hopped onto his bed and laid down, not caring that he was still wearing his shoes.

But as he lay his head on his pillow, he felt something very solid and uncomfortable beneath it. He twisted, propping himself on his right arm to fetch whatever it was from under his pillow with his left.

Harry was relieved to see the black, slightly worn diary in his hand. He laid back down, closing his eyes against the world around him.

-----------------------------------

"Calm down, calm down, please," said Dumbledore solemnly.

All the professors of Hogwarts were crowded into Dumbledore's office, talking hurriedly. None of them really knew what the Chamber of Secrets was, although some of them had heard rumors about it years ago.

"Tell us, Dumbledore," said Flitckwick, "this Chamber doesn't really exist, does it? And the monster – Slytherin's monster – it couldn't possibly. There's no proof. You yourself have checked ages ago for it."

The murmur of the teachers slowly died away at Flitwick's question. Dumbledore shifted in his seat as he looked around at the adults before him. They were all watching him, waiting for an answer, whether good or bad.

"I _have_ checked, Filius. That's true, but I haven't found anything," said Dumbledore. Flitwick was about to say something more, but the headmaster merely raised a hand and continued, "But that does not mean it does not exist. I want you all to know there is a possiblity it does. If the rumors are true, then only the Heir of Slytheirn can open the Chamber."

"Come now, Professor," said Hagrid. "Yeh really think the heir 's out there somewhere?"

"I really couldn't tell you, Hagrid," said Dumbledore. "But, from what I'm guessing and from the writing on the wall, I would say it is a great possibility."

"Hasn't this happened before, Dumbledore?" asked Parish from somewhere in the back. He pushed his way forward to ask.

There was a moment where no one said anything, only turned to glance at the people around him or her. The headmaster said, "The Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago. The staff of then, which I was a part of, found out almost exactly the same way we did now; there was blood written on the wall, saying so."

Dumbledore continued, "After it was written that the Chamber was opened, various students and teachers were petrified." A couple of the teachers gasped at the thought. "I think you all know of the story of Salazar Slytherin and of his eventual leaving the castle. The reason: because students born into non-magical parents were being accepted into the school, which Slytherin didn't like. He believed, as I think you all know, that only pureblood students should be accepted into Hogwarts. Let me warn you that fifty years ago only the students and teachers of muggle-parentage were the ones targeted by the Heir of Slytherin.

"Now you might be thinking: what monster could petrify people of muggle-parentage? Well, I'm sad to say, we never found out. Eventually, it all stopped and someone was caught, but not before a student was killed by the monster. Let's all hope a horror like that doesn't happen again."

The teachers nodded grimly. McGonagall, who was standing near the front, asked, "Albus, what can be done to make sure that doesn't happen again?"

"Keep a watchful eye out for anything out of the ordinary, for anything suspicious. Tell me immediately if you do find anything. And I want you all to be very careful," Dumbledore said, serious. All the professors nodded again.

"Professor, who was the person caught?" asked Professor Sprout uncertainly.

No one noticed, but Hagrid shifted from leaning on his left foot to right. He cleared his throat quietly, looking at Dumbledore, who turned to him, giving no indication as to what he would say. A nervous feeling had sprung up in the pit of his stomach.

"I don't think it's important for you to know this person's name at the moment," said Dumbledore.

Professor Snape, who had been standing off to the side with his arms folded, walked forward, a question in mind. "Who do you think's doing it this time, Professor?"

"I couldn't tell you," said Dumbledore, "for I have no clue."

A/N: Well, what did you think? Did you like the omniscient view? I don't do it often, but I wanted to get a different point of view for a change. Reviews are much appreciated! Thanks! (Sorry about the fact that I forgot to add a preview to the last chapter!)

**

* * *

**

Harry is brought into the past by Tom to see the Heir, but when he comes back he has a fight with Draco…


	22. Into the Past

"Look not mournfully into the past. It comes not back again. Wisely improve the present. It is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy future, without fear."

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

**22**

**Into the Past**

The thick, dark red curtain still hung heavily in the air in the back of the Great Hall, like a reminder to all of what lay behind it. A faint draft came into the room every now and then, rustling the large curtain slightly. Though warm light spilled in through the room's windows, it was a lot more calm than usual for a Sunday morning. The people seated talked quietly to themselves about the Chamber of Secrets, as they ate their breakfast.

Harry entered with Draco and sat down near the end of the table, surrounded by other Slytherins, who were talking quickly about who they thought the Heir was.

"I wrote my father late last night and told him about the Chamber of Secrets to see if he knows anything about it. We'll get his letter when the morning post arrives," said Draco before stuffing part of a warm muffin in his mouth.

Harry, too, stuffed some food into his mouth as he waited impatiently for Mr. Malfoy's letter. He desperately wanted to know more about the Chamber of Secrets.

Ten minutes later, the morning post arrived as hundreds of owls swooped down upon the large hall. Packages and letters were dropped over the students' head, but they were caught without hesitation.

Draco stood up quickly to grab his letter out of the air. As soon as he sat down, he began to unroll the thick, yellow parchment. He flatted the parchment to read, but as soon as Harry and Draco leaned over to read it, there was a loud " I _BANG!_ /I " from the Staff table.

Professor Parish was now standing up as the other professors watched with amusement. An electric blue envelope was laid out in front of Parish. Out of nowhere the envelope raised itself in the air and began to bellow "Happy Birthday" throughout the room. As it did, colorful bits of confetti flew out, as well as orange and black monarch butterflies, which fluttered around the room gracefully.

The song definitely brought some cheerfulness to the students and staff, who clapped when the song was over. Except, of course, most of the Slytherin table. Parish, who was still standing, looked slightly embarrassed, but smiled before sitting down.

"What the hell was that?" Draco asked mockingly.

"It's probably from his family," said Harry. He turned to look at the parchment. "Forget it, I wanna see the letter."

Draco pushed the paper so both of them could see it as it lay flat on the table.

_Draco,_

_The Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago, so it was before my time at Hogwarts, but I know there was a monster that was controlled by the Heir of Slytherin, who tried to rid the school of all the Mudbloods. It didn't exactly work, but one girl died at the end of the year. But I don't want you to know too much because it might look suspicious around the staff and the other students. Just keep out of the Heir's way and don't interfere._

_Your father_

"Fifty years ago?" Harry asked. He remembered Tom telling him once that he had gone to Hogwarts fifty years ago. Would Tom know about the Chamber and what had happened? Harry knew he would have to ask later on.

"Yeah. Why?" Draco asked.

"No reason. It doesn't matter," said Harry, avoiding Draco's eyes. He looked at the letter instead and saw the words "one girl died." Harry said, "I wonder what girl died."

"Some Mudblood," said Draco. Harry looked at him quickly, but his best friend didn't notice since his eyes were on the parchment. He added, frustrated, "My father never tells me anything. I don't care if it'll seem like I know more, I want to know about the Chamber. And I want to know who the Heir is."

"I'm sure we'll find out," said Harry.

"What d'you mean?" Draco asked, turning to look at him.

"The Heir is most likely a Slytherin and he or she will probably brag about what they're doing in the common room," Harry explained. But he wasn't really sure. He was just trying to give his friend a solution, any solution.

"Maybe you're—" started Draco.

"Potter! Quidditch practice!" called Flint, his captain. "I want you to be at the Quidditch pitch in five!"

Harry should have known there would be a Quidditch practice today. The first match between Gryffindor and Slytherin was in two weeks. These next weeks were going to be spent at the pitch mostly.

After changing into his green Quidditch robes and going down to the pitch, Harry went through a vigorous practice. Flint sat on his broom for over an hour, watching him as he caught the Snitch a couple times. But since Harry knew his captain was watching him, he wasn't doing as well as he should have. Because of that, Flint made him stay for extra time until he had caught the Snitch a substantial amount of times.

Late in the afternoon, Harry was finally released from a very cruel practice. He sat down alone in the Great Hall for a quick lunch, pleased there was still food on the table.

When he was done, he went down to the Dungeons and into the Slytherin common room. He was surprised at what he saw. There were tons of smalls groups around the common room, all looking at the same book. The people in the groups, and even those who were standing off to the side, were whispering to themselves.

"Potter, come here!" called Adrian Pucey, a Chaser on the Slytherin Quidditch team. He and the others had been able to leave whereas Harry had to stay behind for extra time.

Harry walked to one of the couches, where Flint, Pucey, Higgs, Bletchley, Blaise, and Draco were. Pucey was holding the book out in front of him so the others could see. They were reading a section in the book Hogwarts, A History, which was what all the other groups in the room were reading.

"It says that Slytherin's Heir is going to rid the school of all those filthy Mudbloods!" Flint said with excitement. Bletchley turned to look at Flint quickly. Harry sat on the armchair of the couch, leaning over to catch a glimpse of a part of the book that had already been read to him.

"Who do you reckon the heir is?" Higgs asked no one in particular.

Pucey lowered the book lazily as he seemed to be thinking about it. Blaise leaned his head back on the couch, looking at up at the ceiling. Draco leaned forward slightly as he looked around the room.

"Well, wouldn't they be a Slytherin? No other House cares about pure-bloodedness," Harry asked. "So, it must be someone in the room."

"That's true," said Pucey.

Once that was said, the bunch of them on the couch, looked around the room, trying to figure out which among them was actually the heir. Which of them was plotting to rid the school of all the Muggle-borns in the school?

------------------------------

Harry had managed, about in hour later, to sneak out of the common room and into the dormitory. He had questions and he hoped Tom had some answers. But before grabbing the book, a quill, and an inkbottle, he changed out of his Quidditch attire.

_"Good evening, Tom,"_ Harry wrote in his slightly unorganized handwriting.

_Good evening, Harry._

_"I need to ask you something."_

_Go on._

_"Do you know about the Chamber of Secrets?"_

_Yes, I know about it. It was opened when I was in my __fifth__year. Students, and even one teacher, were petrified throughout the year by the Heir of Slytherin's monster. At first, it seemed like no one was safe, but the school realized the heir was only targeting Mudbloods. At the end of the year, a Mudblood girl was killed by the monster. The governors threatened to close the school at the end of the year, but the attacks stopped soon after._

_"Did the headmaster find out what the monster had been or who had attacked those people? Because it's happening again – the Chamber of Secrets is open!"_

_If you'll let me, I can show you what the monster was and who had attacked those people._

_"Show me!"_

Suddenly, the pages flipped rapidly as if there had been a large gust of wind. It stopped on a page where in the corner was _June 13__th_, turned into a little black box, almost like a telly screen. The box grew rapidly, eventually taking up the whole page. Harry leaned forward, looking into the box expectantly, and found himself falling through.

For a few seconds, Harry seemed to be falling through nothing, only emptiness, a complete blackness was around him. But then his feet hit solid ground. He saw he was in the Entrance Hall, which, at the moment, was empty. He could tell that it was late evening; torches always seemed to glow brighter when there was no light outside.

Out of nowhere, a tall, lean boy of fifteen with black hair and fair skin appeared from a shadowed corner.

"Hello…um…are you Tom?" Harry asked. But the boy didn't seem to recognize the fact he was there. Maybe Harry couldn't be seen.

Tom was looking up at the stairs as if anticipating something. Then Harry heard soft steps of a couple people, coming down the stairs.

Two men were carrying a stretcher with what looked like a body upon it. A simple, white cloth covered the body entirely. Only a couple strands of long brunette hair stuck out, falling limply over the end of the stretcher.

Following the stretcher was another man, who walked exceptionally graceful despite the fact he was following the body of a dead student. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, whose hair was more auburn then in the present time, may have carried himself well, but Harry could see in his face that he was troubled, and the twinkle in his eyes seemed diminished.

The Entrance Hall doors opened of their own accord, letting the men out. Dumbledore's eyes darted quickly to the young man and he stopped, instead of following the stretcher.

"Why are you out of the common room so late, Tom?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"I wanted to see if the rumors were true, Professor," stated Tom. He looked into the eyes of Dumbledore, unfalteringly.

"It's true. She's has been murdered by the monster."

"The—the school isn't going to close, is it?" Tom asked, almost fearful.

"If these attacks down stop, it is a great possibility, Tom," said Dumbledore.

"What if the attacks do stop? Would—?" Tom started.

"Is there something you know, Tom?" Dumbledore asked, dropping his face slightly, so his gaze fell over the top of his glasses.

"No, sir," said Tom.

Dumbledore nodded a little before saying, "Very well. I suggest you go back to your common room. The school isn't very safe nowadays." He then left the Entrance Hall, going down the front steps to the grounds.

Tom watched as Dumbledore left, and then turned, going down the dark stairs that led to the Dungeons of the school. Harry followed suit, staying close to Tom.

The corridors were dimly lit, so Harry could barely see anything. He could just make out a faint outline of Tom's tall body. As they walked, he wondered why Tom wasn't taking out his wand and lighting is to see. Were the person and his monster hiding somewhere? It was now apparent Tom didn't want the heir to know he was coming.

They twisted through dark corridors, passing the Slytherin common room and the Potions classroom as they did. Eventually, Tom halted, stopping near a partly open door. Dim light flooded out into the hallway as some noises came from the room.

Tom stood there for a good five minutes, as if waiting for the perfect time to barge in. And that's exactly what he did. When he felt the time was right, he walked forward quietly as he took out his long wand, and then pushed the door open forcefully, brandishing his wand.

Harry walked into the room, apprehensively. Tom was pointing his wand at a large boy with scraggly brown hair, who was wearing a brown overcoat. Beside the boy was an exceptionally large chest that seemed to be moving slightly and there is an odd clicking sound coming from it.

Harry was shocked. His mouth had opened slightly as he watched the boy turn to look at Tom with fearful eyes. Was Hagrid the Heir of Slytherin?

"Move out of the way, Hagrid," said Tom, moving his wand from pointing at Hagrid's chest to at the large box upon the floor.

"No!" cried Hagrid.

"That thing is a monster. Headmaster Dippet will take it away, and someone from the Ministry can make sure it will no longer harm anyone," Tom said almost calmly.

"Aragog is no monster, Riddle!" Hagrid exclaimed. He stepped in front of Tom's wand, protecting the large box. "Aragog'd never hurt anyone! I swear!"

"The girl's dead, Hagrid," said Tom. "I don't think you wanted to harm anyone intentionally, but you have, and now that monster must be slaughtered. Move out of the way!"

"No!" Hagrid said.

But Tom had already fired at the large box, taking the lid off its hinges entirely. A massive, black creature with a tangle of legs, sharp pincers, and far too many eyes crept out of the chest. It scurried from the box and also from the blasts of spells as Tom tried to hit it. It managed to get out of the room since the door was still slightly open.

"Noooo!" Hagrid cried once more.

Harry then felt himself being pulled from the scene, but continued to watch in horror as the two boys, leaving the empty chest, ran from the room into the corridor. Darkness filled Harry's vision and he couldn't watch anymore.

A second later, he was lunged onto his bed, where he had been sitting previously. The thought that Hagrid had been the one to open the Chamber of Secrets was overwhelming. Hagrid? How could it be Hagrid? He was too nice to be the one to want to kill all Muggle-borns. Sure, he liked large creatures that most people would call monsters, but that doesn't mean he would use that creature to hurt people….would he?

Harry hadn't gotten enough time to process the fact that it had been Hagrid because at that moment Draco walked in.

"Hey, Harry," he said casually, as he strode over to Harry's bed.

Quickly and very stealthily, Harry hid the diary. He didn't want Draco to know he wrote in it. He put it beneath his blanket and then moved himself over the small bump.

"Hi, Draco," Harry responded. He saw Draco open his mouth, probably about to ask what he was doing, but he cut Draco off. "What've you been doing upstairs?"

"I was talking with Zabini, Pucey, Higgs, and Flint about the heir," said Draco, leaning against the side of Harry's bed. "Then a bunch of older students starting taking bets on which Mudblood is going to be killed first. Zabini and I joined in. I bet two Galleons it would be Granger!"

There was a malicious smirk on his face as he said Granger. He then threw his head back somewhat as he began to laugh.

Furious, Harry sprung from the bed. Draco stopped laughing when an angry Harry stood in front of him.

"Why would you do something like that? _And then tell me about it!_ You have the nerve to tell me you want _her_ _to die?_ You know she's my friend!" Harry yelled. He felt heat rising in his face and chest. "You're a bloody git, Draco!"

Draco's mouth had opened slightly and Harry saw he looked hurt, but he couldn't care less. Without another word, Harry stomped out of the room, making his way upstairs.

A/N: We're half-way through the story! Oh my!

**

* * *

****Duel of Revenge, Duel of Dismay:**

Harry stops a duel between his Slytherin friends and his Gryffindor friends, and then something goes wrong at the Dueling Club…


	23. Duel of Revenge, Duel of Dismay

"If you want to make peace, you don't talk to your friends. You talk to your enemies."

-Moshe Dayan

**23**

**Duel of Revenge, Duel of Dismay**

Harry and Draco hadn't spoken all day on Monday. They went about their day, going first to Defense Against the Dark Arts, then Herbology, and in the afternoon History of Magic. During class, Harry sat with Blaise while Draco sat with Crabbe. Although they didn't talk, they did give each other nasty looks when they saw each other.

When they were in the Great Hall for lunch on Tuesday after Charms and History of Magic, Harry could hear Draco talking loudly about the bet he had made. He knew Draco was trying to get him even more upset, and he tried as hard as he could to ignore it, but anger was boiling in the pit of his stomach.

"Flint asked if anyone else wanted to make a bet, and since no one had chosen that know-it-all Granger, I said I would bet on her for two Galleons!" Draco replayed loudly. He glanced quickly at Harry from further down the table, and a small smirk appeared.

Harry stood up since he couldn't take it anymore. Staring daggers at Draco, he said loudly, "YOU'RE A COMPLETE GIT!" Most of the people in the Great Hall had turned to look at him, and they watched as Harry left the room in a hurry.

Once he was out of there, he didn't know what to do. He felt like banging his fists against a wall, but decided against it. Instead, Harry walked out the front door onto the grounds towards the Black Lake. He stomped for a few minutes back and forth, but eventually just sat down, feeling only slightly calmer.

The lake looked so peaceful since there were ripples running across it. Near the edges was some soft ice since it was getting cold. Harry grabbed his collar, bringing it closer to his neck. It was a lot chillier than he had first felt when he came out. The anger had made him heat up, but now that he wasn't angry anymore, he was actually quite cold. He was wearing a regular robe, not an outdoor robe, and he didn't have a cloak with him.

Harry had been sitting there for about ten minutes when he heard people yelling. He immediately got up and walked around the corner of the castle until he could see Hagrid's cabin. Near another entrance of the castle was a small group of people. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing opposite Ron and Hermione.

As Harry walked toward them, he saw Ron throw a spell at Draco, who dodged it just in time. Without thinking about it, he began to run. Draco raised his wand, ready to jinx Ron, but Harry took his out wand just in time.

"_Expelliarmus!_"

Draco's wand was flung out of his hand, landing a small distance away. Harry then stood, facing Draco, Ron behind him. "What the hell are you doing, Draco?!"

"Having some fun," he said simply, but there was anger in his voice, directed at Harry.

"You call putting spells on my friends fun?" Harry asked.

"Those two aren't you friends, Harry. We're your friends; your _real_ friends," said Draco. "So is Zabini."

"You won't be my friend, anymore, if you keep harming Ron and Hermione!" Harry said.

Then an idea came to him. "I want you to make a truce, the three of you. Ron and Hermione won't put spells on you, and you all won't put any spells on them," said Harry. "Shake hands."

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione, after looking at Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle. Nobody did anything. Nobody was moving.

"I'm not touching them," said Draco. Crabbe and Goyle nodded.

The bell rang, echoing across the grounds, but none of them heard it. They were too absorbed in what was going on around them.

"Do it, Draco!" Harry practically yelled.

Harry was at the point of becoming enraged. Mostly at Draco for what he had said about Hermione, but also because Draco thought it was amusing to jinx his friends. But now he was getting upset at the whole situation. Ron and Hermione would be even more involved in his and Draco's fight.

Draco, annoyed, pushed Harry, and Crabbe and Goyle followed him. Ron and Hermione went forward, unsure, to meet them. They all, hesitantly, shook hands with each other. Draco barely touched Hermione's hand, but when he shook Ron's, he did it too forcefully and Harry could see a pained expression on Ron's face.

"Was that so hard?" Harry asked angrily. He then stormed off quickly, going into the castle toward class.

The rest of them weren't far behind him because they were all in the same class: Potions. The group's footsteps echoed off the dark walls of the Dungeon corridor walls. Just two minutes later, they were opening the large, creaky door to the Potions classroom. Harry entered first, the rest behind him.

Snape looked at them oddly, for they were an odd assortment of students. "Why are you all late?" asked Snape.

Those in the class looked at them with confused eyes. "There were some…problems, Professor," said Harry, as he looked at Draco.

"Sit down, and take out your books…all of you," Snape. Harry and Draco, Ron and Hermione, and Crabbe and Goyle, all sat down in the pairs. Harry was cooling off, but was still angry with Draco, and the rest of them, so he said nothing to anybody during the entire class.

The class went quickly, despite the fact Snape kept glancing over his potion like he had made poison instead. Harry was pleased the class was soon over because he didn't know how long he could stand having to sit next to Draco with awkward silences pervading them.

When the bell rang, Harry grabbed his textbook and bag, and left the room in a rush. Since he was walking hurriedly, he hadn't noticed the potion that had been spilt on the ground outside the classroom. He slipped suddenly, landing hard on his back. His textbook went flying backwards and some of the contents of his bag came out.

Harry sat up slowly, but after a couple seconds of regaining himself, he grabbed his bag and the items closest to him, stuffing them back inside. He got onto his knees, reaching forward for his quill and another book.

As he was putting some of the last objects away, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle passed. Some anger from before sparked up just from seeing him. Still kneeling, Harry whispered, "Git" to himself. But Draco must have heard because he turned suddenly toward him.

"What did you say?" Draco asked, offended.

Harry stood up fully. "I said 'git!'"

"Call me a git one more time!"

"GIT! YOU ARE A BLOODY GIT!"

The door to the classroom opened suddenly. Harry didn't want to turn away from the fierce glare he was giving Draco, but did anyone, curious as to who had heard their fight. It was Snape. He was in the doorway, looking curious and slightly amused.

"What is going on here?" Snape asked.

Both Harry and Draco burst into quick speech about the other instantly.

"Stop!" exclaimed Snape. "I don't really care about your problems. I just don't want you yelling outside my classroom. I have work to do. Go to the common room and fight."

The Head of House walked briskly back into his classroom, closing the door loudly with a thud. Harry and Draco turned to look back at each other, still angry.

"I can't believe you! I can't believe you would try to jinx my friends," said Harry.

"I was having some fun," said Draco, offhandedly. He turned his gaze away.

Harry looked at Draco curiously. Something in his voice wasn't truthful. "I don't believe you. Why'd you do it?" he asked.

"What are you talking about? I was having some fun. That's all," said Draco, but the words weren't said believably. It was obvious he didn't believe his own words. Harry was stared at him incredulously. "I…I was mad at you. I was going to jinx them out of revenge for calling me a git."

"Revenge?" asked Harry. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. No one's called me a git before," said Draco.

Harry sighed audibly. "People fight, Draco, even friends. And people call each other names. You don't have to be vengeful."

"Yeah, I guess."

Goyle sneezed, and for some reason that brought them back to the present. They realized they were in an empty, dimly lit corridor outside the Potion's classroom. Harry and Draco just looked at each other quickly, and they both knew the fight was over. They were okay again. They were best friends again.

------------------------------

"What's going on?" asked Draco on Wednesday evening.

They had just come back from dinner, and as Harry walked in, he realized there was a group of students, which was steadily getting larger, near the bulletin board. The murmur was excited and he couldn't wait to see what the commotion was about.

Seeing as he was small, he managed to get through the older students. Upon the notice board was a large piece of parchment with curvy writing on it.

**Dueling Club**

**First meeting this Friday the 6****th ****at 8 pm.**

Draco appeared at Harry's side, looking up at the parchment. He turned to look at Harry with a small smile.

"Looks interesting," Harry said. Draco nodded.

-------------------------------

At eight in the evening on Friday night, Harry, Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle made their way to the Great Hall. A large number of people had already gathered in the hall, which no longer held the four House tables nor the Staff table. There was one large, golden stage near the back.

Professor Parish, wearing dark blue robes, stood on the stage. Professor Snape was off to the side, clad in black, his arms folded over his chest. He wasn't smiling, in fact he looked almost bothered by the prospect of having teaching the students how to duel.

"Come in, come in! Come on! Gather around!" called Parish, gesturing for them to come closer to the stage, which the students did willingly. There had never been a dueling club before.

When all the students that were going to come, had, Parish closed the Great Hall doors with a flick from his wand. He cleared his throat before saying, "Listen up! Well, I thought it would be beneficial for you all to know how to duel. I'm not saying you'll need to know this for when you're older, but it's important to know."

Parish looked at Snape quickly. "Professor Snape has been kind enough to join us since I've heard he's quite good with his wand," he said. "We'll be giving you a quick demonstration on how a duel is done before you're all separated to practice, so watch closely."

The crowd had been murmuring, but at hearing the professors were going to duel, the group became instantly silenced. Some students even moved closer to the stage to get a better look.

The two men took out their wands before walking to the center of the stage. Harry watched closely as the men then bowed to each other, their wands held tightly at their sides. The men then walked ten paces from the other, instantly turning, their wands firmly in front of their faces, much like swords, as they stared unyieldingly at each other.

Harry heard Parish whisper, "One…two…three!"

"_Expelliarmus!_" cried Snape, as he extended his arm, pointing his wand at Parish.

But Parish seemed to have known he was going to make the first move because he ducked, almost lazily. As the red flash flew passed where Parish's head would have been, Parish pointed his wand at Snape. "_Tarantallegra!_"

The bright flash hit Snape in the chest, and he suddenly couldn't control the movement of his legs, which was obvious because they were moving like uncontrollable jello. A group of students began to laugh.

Harry could see Snape wasn't pleased. Just as Parish started to stand up fully, Snape raised his wand again. "_Incarcerous!_" Thick, white ropes shot of the tip of his wand, aimed at Parish.

Professor Parish was quick though, he raised his wand just seconds before they were going to wrap themselves around him. "_Incendio!_" Bright blue flames shot out of Parish's wand, almost like a flamethrower.

The ropes disinigrated before hitting Parish. The broken remains and ashes fell to the floor of the stage. The whole crowd went, "Ohh!" Snape looked even angrier after that, but his legs were still moving uncontrollably, so he was a bit preoccuppied.

But Parish saw, and muttered a countercurse to the spell he had performed. Snape was back to normal and not anymore pleased.

"Snape doesn't look too happy," whispered Draco.

"Parish made him look like an idiot," said Harry. "I wouldn't be too happy either."

The professors went slowly toward the center. After putting his wand away, Parish put a hand on Snape's shoulder. "You all right?" he asked. Snape nodded, not looking at him.

"Okay, now that you've seen what to do, Professor Snape and I will be splitting you up into pairs," said Parish. He then hopped off the stage, continuing into the crowd as he began to separate the students. Snape went down the stairs, doing the same.

Snape came over to Harry and his Slytherin friends. Not far from them were Ron, Hermione, Neville, and a couple other Gryffindors.

"Hmm…" Snape said, feining thought. "Potter, you and Longbottom. Malfoy, you're with Weasley. Zabini and Granger, Crabbe and Finnigan, and Goyle and Thomas."

Silently, they paired up, seperating slightly from the others to get some room. Over to the right, Harry heard Snape pair up Parkinson with Brown and Bullstrode with Bones.

Harry pulled out his wand and Longbottom followed suit, but hesitantly. They bowed to each other before walking a couple paces from each other. As Harry walked, his thoughts searched for an adequete spell. The two of them turned, wands in front of their faces. Harry counted, saying more loudly, "Three!"

"_Experlliarmus!_" shouted Longbottom.

The only spell that came to mind as the spell was coming toward him was a spell he remembered from reading the book Hermione gave him. "_Protego!_" A flash shot out of his wand, deflecting Longbottom's spell.

Parish passed them. "Good job, Potter! Keep it up."

Beside them was Draco and Ron, who were both fighting vigorously. Bright flashes were eminating from both wands pretty quickly.

Out of nowhere, Longbottom shouted, "_Rictusempra!_" The spell hit Harry in the left arm. He began to laugh uncontrollably, but it was unwillingly, so after a just a couple seconds, his lungs and chest began to hurt.

Harry raised his wand, and through the random bursts of laughter, he tried to say a spell, but what came out was a random, unknown word. But apparently, it had an affect because boils began to appear all over Longbottom's face.

Harry looked quickly at Draco to see Snape whispering something in his ear. But he turned away when he saw Longbottom raise his wand. But this time, Harry managed to say a spell through the laughter.

"_Incarcerous!_" yelled Harry. The ropes swung themselves around Longbottom's body, making his arms stuck to his sides and prevnting him from walking. A second later, he fell backwards, unable to walk or move.

Still laughing, Harry tried to think of a spell to get rid of the spell cast upon him. He knew it began with a "d." He remembered reading the name. It suddenly occurred to him, so he pointed his wand at his stomach. "_Deletrius!_"

The effects of the spell were gone immediately, but out of nowhere, he heard Ron yell in fright. Harry turned to look at him, his wand held tightly in his right hand. The other students near them stopped as well.

Ron was backing away slowly, fear on his face.

Upon the floor, inching ever so slowly toward Ron was a large, thick, black snake. It's gleaming red eyes were focused on the red head, who could only stare back in horror. Now, all the students were backing away, terrified of the creature before them.

* * *

**Preview of Chapter 24— The Snake and the Struggle:**

After finding out he's a Parselmouth, Harry finds it hard to convince the other Slytherin's and his friends that he isn't the Heir of Slytherin…


	24. The Snake and the Struggle

"Time strips our illusions of their hue, and one by one in turn, some grand mistake casts off its bright skin yearly like the snake."

-Lord Byron

**24**

**The Snake and the Struggle **

Upon the floor, inching ever so slowly toward Ron was a large, thick, black snake. It's gleaming red eyes were focused on Ron, who could only stare back in horror. Now, all the students were backing away, terrified of the creature before them.

Not sure what he was really doing, Harry began to walk forward, his eyes focused intently on the snake. "_Get away from him_," Harry said to it.

The snake stopped, but then continued on forward. "_I said, leave him alone!_"

Red eyes turned to Harry as the snake stopped. But suddenly the snake lunged at Ron, who screamed. He brought his hands up in an attempt to cover his face, but the black snake lodged its fangs into Ron's right arm.

Not a second later, Parish pointed his wand at the snake. "_Evanesco!_" Before their very eyes, the snake vanished. Ron's grunting of pain could be heard as the whole hall stared at Harry with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

All eyes were turned to Harry and he couldn't help but look around as they gazed at him judgmentally. Ron, as he held his arm tightly, looked at him, shock on his face.

Suddenly, he felt a forceful pull as someone grabbed his arm, wrenching him into the side room of the Great Hall. Harry turned to see Snape, who was closing the door, loudly, while Harry rubbed his arm. Snape came swiftly toward him, menacingly. "What did you say to the snake, Potter?"

"I told the snake to get away from Weasley. Didn't you hear me?" Harry asked, knowing that Snape had been standing near him.

"Potter, you were speaking another language," Snape said slowly, eyeing him curiously.

Harry looked at his professor incredulously. "I wasn't speaking another language. I was speaking English. I don't know any other language," said Harry.

"You spoke Parseltongue," Snape replied. "Meaning, you can speak to snakes."

"I know. Well, I've done it before," said Harry casually. "I talked to a snake at the zoo once, and then this summer at Malfoy Manor."

"That's not something to be proud of, Potter. Salazar Slytherin and the Dark Lord could speak Parseltongue."

"Can other people at the school speak Parseltongue?" Harry asked.

Snape shook his head, giving Harry a serious look. "People are going to think you're Slytherin's Heir."

"But I'm not!"

"Just watch what you say and do around the other students," Snape said, oddly enough, giving him advice.

The door opened and Professor Parish came in. "Weasley has been sent to the Hospital Wing. The other students have gone," he said. Harry nodded slightly.

"Go back to Slytherin common room," said Snape. Too bothered by the fact that everyone had looked at him accusingly, just because he could talk to snakes, Harry followed Snape's orders and left to go to the Slytherin common room.

As he entered, there was a mass of students in green robes clapping loudly. Harry was completely startled. He hadn't been expecting that at all. He had been expecting malicious glares and suspicious stares. But the other Slytherins stood up from their seats with large smirks.

"Oi, Potter! How come you didn't tell us you were the Heir of Slytherin?" asked Flint. He was standing with a group of other sixth years.

Harry walked all the way into the room, about to say that he wasn't, but someone began to speak before he had a chance. "Potter, now we all know you're the heir! You speak to snakes!" said some unknown bloke from somewhere in the room.

"You're a Parselmouth!" said Bole.

"Go, Potter!" cheered Parkinson, as she clapped loudly. Other girls applauded as well.

"But…I'm not," Harry said.

No one cared though. They kept clapping and started cheering. They all thought he was the Heir of Slytherin, but he wasn't. He hadn't opened the Chamber of Secrets and he didn't want to kill any Muggle-borns, but none of them wanted to hear it. Perhaps it was because they were all Slytherins that they wanted someone, anyone, in their midst to be the heir. But Harry didn't want them to think he was. If the people in the other Houses heard all the Slytherin's thought he was the heir, they surely would think so too. Probably even more so.

"No, but I'm not the heir!" Harry tried. Still, none of them listened.

All the other Slytherin's were talking excitedly to each other about Harry, the Chamber of Secrets, and how he could speak Parseltongue that they weren't even paying attention to him anymore. Harry didn't even want to bother anymore. Now he just felt frustrated.

As he started walking toward the stairs to the dormitories, Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle came up to him. Draco had a large smile on his face, as if relieved to see there actually was someone who could get rid of those "dirty Mudbloods," as he usually put it.

"You can take that stupid grin off your face because I'm not the heir," said Harry, looking at Draco, whose smile vanished slightly.

"How come you never told us you were a Parseltongue?" asked Blaise.

"I don't know. I guess I thought more people could do it, too. I didn't know I was this unique," Harry stated. He looked at the group of them.

"Just seeing me talk to a snake made you all assume I was the heir?" Harry asked, curious.

"Yeah," mumbled Crabbe as he nodded sluggishly. The others nodded as well.

The other Slytherin's thought he was the Heir of Slytherin, so now he was certain the other Houses did also. The Muggle-borns especially would forever look at him in terror, like he was going to kill them suddenly. He knew the other Slytherin's would find the thought amusing, but he didn't. He didn't want the other students and the teachers to think he was going to kill all the Muggle-borns.

"How long did you know you could talk to snakes? Was this the first time?" Blaise asked excitedly, his eyes wider as he took a step toward Harry.

"Why do you really care?" Harry asked.

"You can talk to snakes! Don't you know what this means?" Draco asked.

"Among the other Slytherins, you're practically seen as some sort of hero," said Blaise, as if he should have realized this. "Salazar Slytherin could talk to snakes, and I wouldn't doubt the others here have dreamed of having that ability."

"My father told me the Dark Lord could speak to snakes," said Goyle slowly as he looked at the others.

"See!" exclaimed Draco, his grey eyes widening.

"See what?" asked Harry, highly frustrated. "I didn't ask for this! I didn't ask for I _any_ /I of this! I never wanted to speak Parseltongue in the first place! None of you get it!"

Suddenly, he felt at the point of becoming enraged if anyone else made a comment about him being the heir. As Harry stormed out of the common room, going into the dark Dungeon passageways, he thought about the people he was leaving behind in the other room.

Why wouldn't they listen to him? Why wouldn't they understand? Why couldn't they see he wasn't the Heir of Slytherin?

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The next day, despite the fact it was Saturday and Harry got to sleep in, was not bright and cheerful. The sun wasn't out; instead dark, thick clouds covered the sky, threatening torrential rain. The corridors of Hogwarts seemed a lot darker because of this, as did the moods of much of the population of the students and teachers.

But then again, Harry could have been seeing things because he knew all of Hogwarts would now know he was Parselmouth. By now, it would have reached the entire school, and McGonagall would have told even Dumbledore of it as well.

Harry didn't want to admit it, but he was worried. Worried about the others students thinking he was something he wasn't, and worried about what would happen now that the Chamber was open. But if he didn't open it, it had to have been opened by someone else. He just didn't know who.

As Harry got out of his green-striped pajamas into his Slytherin robes, he thought about all this. But those thoughts had been haunting his dreams and he hadn't been able to sleep all night.

So rather than continue trying to get sleep, he decided to visit Ron in the Hospital Wing. Harry hadn't gotten a chance to ask if he was all right yesterday, considering he had been forced out.

The other second year boys in the room were still asleep. Harry's watch said it was 8:50. All the curtains were still drawn, except Goyle's, who usually forgot, so Harry could see his slumbering large body. Quietly, Harry left the room, taking about ten minutes until he was walking into the Hospital Wing.

There was only one bed with the curtains completely drawn. It was a couple of beds from the entrance on the left. Madam Pomfrey was nowhere in sight, so he crept quietly into the curtained area.

Ron was sitting up in bed, his eyes looking slightly dreary, as he ate some Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans, putting them into his mouth with his left hand as his right lay limp by his side.

Harry didn't have a chance to ask how he was doing because Ron's startled expression made him stop. The freckle-faced boy practically jumped in his bed out of fear. From Ron's expression he knew Ron thought he had made the snake jump at him on purpose.

"Get away from me! You sent that snake at me!" Ron blurted loudly.

"I told the snake to get away from you!" exclaimed Harry in disbelief.

"Then why did it attack me?" asked Ron accusingly.

"It wouldn't listen to me!" exclaimed Harry.

There was a pause, but then Ron said, "You _are_ the Heir of Slytherin, aren't you? I didn't want to believe it."

Harry couldn't stop the name from coming out of his mouth. He had heard Draco say it too many times. It came out before he could prevent it. "No, I'm not, _Weasel!_"

Ron looked angry, but plainly stated, "You're becoming another Malfoy, Harry."

"I'm not Draco," said Harry, slightly taken aback.

"Could've fooled me," said Ron.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, his voice rising a little.

"It means that if you had blond hair you'd be – you know what, _you_ figure it out! I don't want you around here!" said Ron, his voice rising. "Bugger off, Potter!"

"Fine!" Harry said, looking Ron in the eye, before rushing out of the Hospital Wing.

As Harry turned the corner, he almost crashed into Hermione. In her right hand was a thick book. "Hello, Harry," she said pleasantly.

"Ron's off his trolley! He thinks I actually told that snake to bite him!" said Harry.

"Don't worry. I know you didn't. I know you wouldn't do anything of the sort to Ron. But with everything going on concerning the Chamber, people are just a bit…on edge," Hermione said quite calmly.

Harry sighed in relief. He felt like giving her a massive hug. Just the fact she believed him was so calming; he felt his anger die away. There was also a soft twinkle in her eyes that made him become much more composed. "I'm glad you believe me, Hermione."

"I'll go talk to Ron, see if I can knock some sense into him. See you," said Hermione with a small smile. Harry watched her cloak trail away behind the corner.

A/N: Kind of short chapter, but more interesting things will be coming your way!

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Somehow Harry gets so sick he has to leave the castle to go to St. Mungo's…


	25. Severe Sickness

"There is no sickness worse for me than words that to be kind must lie."

-Aeschylus

**25**

**Severe Sickness**

A wintry cold had now layered upon the entire school and grounds. The late November sky was beginning to take on its normal winter-gray. When walking outside, frost touched the bottom of everyone's robes, making the hems slightly damp. Jumpers had become a usual article of clothing to wear beneath Hogwarts robes, as well as House scarves.

Over the course of that one week, the whole Slytherin House began to regard him, like Blaise had said, as a hero. A few students would go and bring him his schoolbooks before he finished his breakfast so that he wouldn't have to get them, and one time a first year boy got his broom for him before Quidditch practice.

It was quite the contrary regarding the other Houses that looked at him curiously and fearfully whenever he walked by. Harry knew the rest of the student body weren't sure he was actually the Heir of Slytherin, but he knew they were considering it.

Knowing that after the Dark Arts class he would have to travel outside to get to Herbology, Harry stuffed his green and gray wool scarf into his bag. Before walking to the dormitory door, he also grabbed Riddle's diary and put that in his bag. Hopefully at break he could write to Tom.

Crabbe and Goyle were snoring loudly as he closed the door; Blaise was also asleep, but Draco's and Nott's beds were empty.

When Harry got to the Great Hall, still tired, he found that the only person he knew at the Slytherin table was Nott, who was eating quietly. The rest of the Slytherin table and room were practically devoid of all people.

The first thought that came to Harry's mind was that Draco was sending off another letter to his father. He sat down at the table near Nott, who nodded in his direction.

Harry grabbed food from the nearest tray and put it onto his plate, looking at it ravenously. He then looked at this silver goblet, which was empty and reached for the container of pumpkin juice that was to his left. There was a small "pop" somewhere to his right.

Turning back quickly as he held the large glass of juice, Harry saw no one there. Nott was looking down at his food. He knew no one could Apparate inside the castle, so he must have misheard. It was early in the morning anyway.

As he got ready to pour, he could've sworn his goblet had been silver, but a gold one now stood in its place. Harry thought nothing of it as he poured and began to drink.

"Morning," said a voice behind Harry. He knew it was Draco, who sat down next to him, grabbing the same pumpkin juice container.

A half-hour later, the Great Hall was filled with sleepy but talkative students. And not too long after was Harry walking toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

But with every step toward it, he felt himself growing sicker. There was an unbelievably painful cramp in his stomach; he also felt shaky, clammy, and cold.

He and Draco were now outside the door to the Dark Arts classroom, which other students were walking into. Harry stopped dead for a second, looking straight at the floor. He heard the door to the room close after a couple students went inside. Draco was looking at him curiously, but didn't say anything.

Suddenly, the pain got worse. It felt like his stomach was ripping in two and he felt slightly dizzy. Harry grabbed his stomach in pain, doubling over onto his knees. He could feel a something hot rising in his throat.

"Harry, what's wro—?" Draco asked with concern. He didn't finish his sentence since Harry had just thrown up all over the floor.

The putrid smell reached Harry's nose and he felt like puking again, but turned his head away, still in pain. There was a horrible, acidy taste in his mouth and his throat was now burning, which caused his eyes to tear at the sides. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his robes.

And as hard as he tried to stop the terrible, bubbling feeling in his chest, he couldn't. Harry puked again, much to Draco's disgust, who was standing a good distance away as he covered his mouth and nose.

A slight groan escaped Harry as the smell, taste, and burning got worse.

"I'm going to get some help," said Draco. He could hear his friend's footsteps as he went into the Dark Arts classroom.

A couple of seconds later, Professor Parish, accompanied by the rest of the class who were looking out from the door, came toward the bent-over Harry.

"This doesn't look good," said Parish as he walked over, taking out his wand. "_Scourgify!_"

Harry could tell that the mess was gone because the smell had left with it. He could hear the other students whispering to themselves.

Harry was holding himself tightly as he looked very intently at the floor, hoping the pain would just go away. But he knew it would be leaving later rather than sooner. Out of the corner of his eyes, tears were forming from the pain.

Parish helped Harry stand by practically pulling him up. He was glad Parish had helped because he didn't think he could've done it on his own. He muttered a thanks, but Parish told him calmly to not worry about it.

They took a couple steps, but then stopped. Parish had turned to tell the rest of the class to read chapter six in their book before they continued on toward the Hospital Wing.

After Madam Pomfrey had given him Essence of Rue, which had tasted almost as bad as the remnants of his puke, the pain had subsided slightly. A large bucket had been placed beside his bed, which he had already thrown up into twice.

Professor Parish hadn't left the Hospital Wing since he was talking to a uneasy Madam Pomfrey. Parish then came over to Harry's curtainless bed.

"Potter, is there anything you ate this morning that might indicate how it is you got this sick?" he asked. There was worry written all over his face as he looked at Harry, who shook his head.

He had no idea what made him sick, and voiced so. Whatever he had eaten, someone else had probably eaten as well. But why was no one else sick? Why was no one else sitting in a hospital bed, puking like he was? He had no answers and neither, it seemed, did Madam Pomfrey or Professor Parish.

"Nothing at all?" Parish asked.

"Nothing, Professor," Harry said, a sick feeling coming over him again. But luckily it went away.

Madam Pomfrey came scurrying over, carrying another small vial of Essence of Rue. She handed it to him as she said, "Drink it all." A look of disgust must have come across his face because she added, "I'm not leaving until you do." Uncorking it, Harry drank every last drop of the disgusting potion, and then she left.

"If you can think of anything, anything at all, that might help Madam Pomfrey heal you faster, then tell her," said Parish. "I've got to get to class. Feel better."

"Thank you, Professor," said Harry with a small smile.

Not five minutes later, Harry was bent over the side of his bed as he puked into the bucket. Madam Pomfrey brought over a warm towel and conjured some pumpkin juice to get rid of the taste.

His canvas messenger bag was on the other side of the bed, resting against the side table. To help take his mind off the pain, Harry reached into it and took out Riddle's diary, a quill, and a bottle of ink.

_"Hello, Tom."_

_Good morning, Harry._

_"Actually, it's not a good morning at all. I've suddenly become very sick. I don't know why. I guess I ate something at breakfast that doesn't agree with me."_

_I'm sorry to hear it…_

Harry and Tom wrote to each other for a while, though there were minor pauses as Harry puked into the large bucket.

Near lunch, Harry had puked so much without eating a lot that he was starting to feel very weak. Not to mention the fact that his stomach cramps were still there. Also, he knew he was very pale from being in pain all day. Madam Pomfrey brought him some soup, bread, and tea for lunch, but not ten minutes later, he threw it all up. The same happened later that day when he had been brought some dinner. He couldn't keep any food down, and although he felt sick, he was also very hungry.

Draco and Blaise came to visit him after dinner, but Harry felt so weak and tired, he barely said anything. They talked to him for a while about random things, and Blaise tried to make him laugh, but nothing helped ease the pain. Eventually, they told him they hoped he felt better before leaving him alone.

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An agonizing pain was in the pit of stomach. It was like a horrible knot that made his insides tighten and squirm. He also felt an excruciating, empty feeling beneath his ribs from being near starving.

As Harry lay on his side, his head off his pillow, he grabbed his stomach tightly, hoping the pain would leave. He could feel cold sweat all over his body, drenching his pajamas. His dark hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. Moans of pain escaped his body, but he was in so much pain, he couldn't say more than that.

Light was flooding into the room, so he knew it was morning, but Harry shut his eyes against the bright light. It seemed to cause even more pain. As he lay there, he wished Madam Pomfrey came in soon to check up on him, so she could help him. He desperately needed it.

"Merlin! Potter!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed about ten minutes later when she came in.

By then, Harry had thrown up, but since he hadn't been able to move, it had been right near his head. The acidy smell was horrible, but he couldn't seem to move his body to get away from it.

He heard her footsteps scurrying away quickly. About a minute later, he heard her footsteps as well as those of another. Had he been able to turn, he would have seen Professor Dumbledore.

"Headmaster, look at him! He's incredibly sick. I gave him Essence of Rue five times yesterday, but he is still sick. He seems to have gotten worse. I…I don't know what to do," Madam Pomfrey said panicky.

"He must be taken to St. Mungo's. Arrange for an emergency crew to retrieve him," said Dumbledore. "Then give him something to sleep. He looks like he hasn't gotten much."

Her footsteps left the curtained area to get the potion Harry would be taking. Dumbledore moved closer toward Harry, who could just hear his soft steps. "_Scourgify!_" said his headmaster slowly.

The awful smell was finally gone. Harry was relieved, and he wished he could thank Dumbledore. He opened his eyes against the bright room around him, and then opened his mouth to give thanks, but only a pained groan escaped him.

"It's all right, Harry," said Dumbledore, his eyes limp with worry. "We're going to take you to St. Mungo's Hospital. There the Healers will be able to help you."

Madam Pomfrey's appeared at Dumbledore's side, a small vial in her hand. She knelt down beside the bed. "Open your mouth," she said softly. After he did slightly, she lightly held his chin as she poured some rotten-tasting potion into his mouth.

The curtains were pulled away on the metal rings as Harry heard three pairs of footsteps enter the room. "This him?" asked a man. Dumbledore or Madam Pomfrey must have nodded because Harry then felt muscular hands lifting him from the bed onto a stretcher. He felt his body sink slightly onto the strong but relatively thin fabric.

As time progressed, Harry could feel himself slowly dozing off. "This bag here his?" asked the same man.

"Yes, bring it," said Dumbledore. "He may want to write a letter when he feels up to it."

"Yes, sir."

Slowly but surely, the stretcher with Harry upon it was carried down the steps by two large men, followed by the other man, who was holding Harry's bag. Harry knew this because he had opened his eyes briefly to see what was going on.

When they were in the Entrance Hall, Harry opened his eyes again since he heard a couple people talking. There were a couple students around, going into the Great Hall for breakfast. Coming from the side was Draco.

"Harry!" he exclaimed, rushing over. "Where's he being taken?"

The man holding Harry's bag said, "St. Mungo's."

Draco nodded, looking slightly grim as he said, "Feel better, Harry."

Harry couldn't keep his eyes open anymore, so he let them shut themselves. It felt a lot better, now that the light was no longer hurting him, or making his eyes feel dry. Just before he completely dozed off, he heard the sound of the men's footsteps as they went down the main steps into the cold, wintry air…

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Soft light was streaming into the white-colored room, so Harry knew he was in the hospital. He tried to lift his head to look around, but it felt very heavy.

At the moment, he felt no pain. There were no horrible cramps or feelings of being cold and clammy. He must have been given something.

As he lay there, he wondered what ward he was in since no one knew why he was sick. Maybe the Healers had found out. Maybe that's why he no longer felt anything. It was quite wonderful, considering how he had been feeling yesterday morning. This morning was definitely a lot better.

Harry's head was propped up comfortably on fluffy pillows, so when he heard footsteps, he was able to look at the door to see a woman, wearing white robes, come in. She was holding a couple pieces of parchment.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," she said pleasantly. The woman had light brown hair that went gently down to her shoulder in soft waves. She looked like she was in her mid-thirties. She looked at Harry with soft blue eyes. "I didn't expect you to be up for another hour or two."

"What time is it?" Harry asked, happy he could talk.

She looked at her watch before saying, "Just after 7:30." She added, "Since you're up, I'll tell you about what I'm doing to help you. I'm Healer Tillie Valen, and you're on the second floor in the Magical Bugs and Diseases ward. You arrived here yesterday morning, in case you didn't know. By the time you got here you were unconscious, but Dumbledore told me you had been given something. He—"

"Dumbledore was here?" Harry interrupted.

"He accompanied you here," Healer Valen said, as she stood beside his bed.

The thought that Dumbledore had come with him to St. Mungo's was, for some reason, very comforting. Dumbledore and he didn't talk very much anymore like they had last year. Ever since he had told his headmaster about what he had been in the Mirror of Erised, there had been some hesitancy toward each other. But knowing Dumbledore had been here, made him feel more light-hearted.

"Well, he told me what had been wrong, but he said there was nothing to explain your circumstance," said Healer Valen. "So, I've given you a simple potion to get rid of the pain you've been feeling, but I'm sorry to say it will come back again. I haven't been able to narrow down what's wrong, so I haven't been able to give you a potion to help. But after a while, I'm sure I'll be able to narrow down your problem and give you a remedy to take. You just might have to stay here for while as I assess your situation."

"How long?" asked Harry.

"I doubt more than a week," said Healer Valen.

Harry nodded, but then he realized his Quidditch game against Gryffindor was this Saturday. Hopefully, he would be at Hogwarts by then. He definitely won't be getting any practice in before then.

"How about some food? You look starving," Healer Valen said. Harry nodded. "I'll make sure one of the trainee's bring you something delicious." She gave him a small smile.

"Thanks," Harry replied, returning a smile.

"Oh, just so you know, you're school bag is beside your bed." Healer Valen then left the room, walking softly but briskly into the white corridor.

A couple of minutes later, a young man of about twenty came into the room, carrying a tray of food. He stopped dead when he saw Harry, who was now sitting up in his bed, his legs covered by the warm blanket.

"You're Harry Potter!" he exclaimed.

"Er…yeah…hello," Harry said uncertainly.

The young man stood there for another second or so, and then said, "Sorry. I've never met someone famous before." As he walked forward, he took out his wand, and tapped the tray with it, so it was now floating. He moved it so it was floating over Harry's thighs.

"Name's David Mosley," said the young man. He leaned forward and shook Harry's hand. "So, how old are you now?"

"Twelve."

"I remember my mum telling me when I was little that You-Know-Who was finally gone," said Mosley. "I can't believe it's been twelve years."

Harry picked up the fork, happy to see food before him. He hadn't eaten in too many hours. "Well, enjoy your food. See ya." Harry nodded to him and then the young man left.

The food was better than he could have imagined. It wasn't that the food itself was necessarily great, but the fact that he really hadn't eaten in two days made the food so much better. It made his mouth water as he chewed, contentedly.

**Essence of Rue—used in HBP. **It's a potion that Ron was prescribed by Madam Pomfrey to aid his recovery after he had been poisoned by Malfoy's mead. So I thought it could help Harry, too.

**A/N:** If you have any questions or comments, don't be afraid to say something or ask. Also, just so you all know, I'm writing Year 3, so if you have any ideas for me or anything tyou think I should add, put it in a review or email me!!! Thanks!

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**Preview of Chapter 26—The Stiffened Body:**

Out of the hospital, onto the Quidditch pitch, and then suddenly someone is petrified…


	26. The Stiffened Body

"Thoughts are the shadows of our sensations — always darker, emptier, simpler than these."

-Friedrich Nietzsche

**26**

**The Stiffened Body**

Hours later, as Harry was looking through the spell book from Hermione, which had been stuffed into a pocket of his school bag, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley showed up.

"Oh, Harry, dear!" cried Mrs. Weasley as she came into the room. "Are you all right? Are you feeling well?" She asked several more questions regarding his health as she came up to his bed.

"I'm all right, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry. "Thanks."

"Hello, Harry," said Mr. Weasley, a smile on his face. "I'm glad to see you're okay. Dumbledore sent us a letter, and he seemed really worried about you, so we decided to see how you were doing."

"I'm glad both of you are here," said Harry. "I've been bored out of my mind. There's nothing to do and I doubt they'll let me walk around."

"And they shouldn't let you out of bed. You have to get healed first. You can't go back to Hogwarts still sick," Mrs. Weasley said motherly. "Have you been eating all right, you look starved."

"I've been eating fine," said Harry.

"Good, good," said Mrs. Weasley. "I think I'll go get something to drink. Arthur, you want something?"

"Coffee's fine," he said. Mr. Weasley was sitting in a visitor's chair beside Harry's bed. Harry saw him watch Mrs. Weasley leave the room. Then he turned to Harry. "There's something I want to talk to you about, Harry."

Hesitantly, Harry said, "Okay."

"Dumbledore told us about what's going on at the school — the Chamber of Secrets," said Mr. Weasley, his eyes looking carefully at Harry.

"Am I being accused of something?" Harry asked, trying not to be defensive.

"No, no, no. Not at all. Dumbledore's just worried," said Mr. Weasley. "He doesn't think you're the Heir of Slytherin, but he says the rest of the school does. Apparently, you spoke Parseltongue in front of the others students two weeks back. He wanted me to tell you that he thinks you should be careful what you do and say from now on."

"Speaking Parseltongue wasn't my fault! I was trying to get that snake away from Ron, but it just lunged at him!" exclaimed Harry. "I didn't even know I was speaking it!"

"Calm down. It's okay," replied Mr. Weasley. "No one's blaming you. Molly and I aren't accusing you of anything. Hermione sent us a letter a while back explaining everything. We know you didn't intentionally hurt Ron."

Harry nodded, looking at Mr. Weasley quickly. At least they didn't find him responsible for anything that had occurred. He was relieved.

Right after, Mrs. Weasley showed up, holding two cups of steaming coffee.

They stayed with him for most of the day. When Harry asked how it was Mr. Weasley could stay, Mr. Weasley told him he had been given the day off. Mr. Weasley recounted various stories of Muggle tools going haywire from spells, and how he had to go and fix them. Some of them were very funny, and Harry was happy to have Mr. and Mrs. Weasley there.

But eventually the two redheads had to leave, which they did around five pm. Harry was sad to see them go, they seemed to keep his pain at bay because about twenty minutes later, the pain he had been feeling yesterday was back.

The tightness in his stomach and the clamminess had returned. A cold sweat started, soaking different places of his clothes. Before he couldn't move anymore, Harry called for help.

"HELP!" he called loudly. "Help, please!"

Healer Valen came running in immediately, followed by a couple other people. He saw Mosley in the crowd. She took out a vial with a purple liquid within. "Tip your head back and open you mouth. This will help."

She tipped the awful potion into his mouth, and he swallowed it down as fast as possible. The potion didn't work immediately, but a couple minutes later, it began to kick in, and soon he was laying back.

"I'm sorry to say, this will happen again, Mr. Potter," said Healer Valen.

And indeed it did. Over the course of the next couple days, the pain came back every few hours. When he was feeling all right, he spent some time either talking to Mosley or writing to Tom. He told Tom he was in St. Mungo's and Tom told him that was unfortunate and that he sincerely hoped Harry got better soon. Those words from a friend made Harry feel a lot better.

Luckily, by Thursday morning, Healer Valen said she was close to figuring out what was wrong with him. She explained that she had been feeding him different foods throughout the week to see if he would have an allergic reaction. After seeing that he wasn't going to, she knew it must have been an outside factor.

She brought in a large book, containing names and descriptions of different plants, weeds, and poisons. The book also said what the effects of each one were when ingested. Healer Valen said she had narrowed it down to two: Foxglove and Nightshade. The only problem was it seemed unlikely he had ingested either since they could be considered poisons.

"You weren't trying to poison yourself, were you?" Healer Valen asked, eyeing him.

"Of course not!" Harry said.

"Just making sure," she replied. "I don't know how either of these could've gotten into your system, but one of them has. I'll figure it out soon."

A couple hours later, Healer Valen came in with a large smile. She told him quite happily that she had figured out it was Nightshade. "I'm brewing a concoction to make sure the Nightshade's toxins can no longer work in your body. Give me a couple hours."

Harry nodded, a large smile on his face. He would finally be leaving the hospital, a healed young man. The thought actually made him feel better.

Healer Valen let him leave Friday afternoon, after making sure the potion had really worked. It had. No more feelings of pain had come his way and he was definitely pleased.

"Take care, Mr. Potter," said Healer Valen.

Heaving his bag onto his shoulder, Harry walked down to the ground floor, where they allowed him to use the fireplace to get back to Hogwarts. He took some Floo Powder from the receptionist, walked to the fireplace, and threw the powder down at the floor.

Warm, green flames sprung up around him. Harry saw Mosley come around the corner. The young man nodded to him as he gave him a cheerful smile, which Harry returned before saying, "_Slytherin common room!_"

"Don't just stand there, you sod!" yelled Flint. "Get the bloody Quaffle!"

Higgs glared at Flint before flying off toward Katie Bell, who now had the Quaffle. Lee Jordan, who was commentating, echoed all this over the stands.

The score was 30 to 10, and the Gryffindors were up. Flint was furious, which wasn't helping the other teammates. They were getting agitated while Harry flew around, looking for the Snitch. Except, he couldn't catch it because they didn't have enough points yet.

"Bell has the Quaffle, she's flying toward the Slytherin goal posts," said Jordan. "She threw it to Spinnet. Great catch! Oh, Derrick's coming up behind her! Get away, Katie!"

But she didn't get away in time. Derrick hit the Bludger right at her. She almost toppled off her broom, but managed to stay on, except now the Quaffle was in Adrian Pucey's hands. He had managed to steal it from her while she had been regaining herself.

"Pucey's going toward the Gryffindor goal posts. He looks determined, but with all those failures already, will they get it in this time?" commented Jordan. "Come on, Oliver! But, oh! No go. Slytherin scores. 30 to 20."

Harry listened intently to what Jordan was saying, waiting as the score rose. He saw the Snitch twice already, but didn't follow it. He also watched Ackley Leven, who he knew hadn't see it.

Not a half-hour later, Jordan bellowed, "The scores now 60 to 60! It's anyone's game!"

Flint came flying over to Harry, his face red and sweaty. "Do-not-catch-the-Snitch!" he said. "We have to get well over 80 points first."

"Okay. I can do that," Harry replied.

"You better!" Flint said harshly before flying off.

The game continued, as did Jordan's commentary, "Bole and Derrick are ganging up on Johnson, who has the Quaffle. But…yes! Fred Weasley hit Bole with the Bludger! Nice one, Fred! Bole's down!"

He went on, "But Derrick's still following Johnson. Johnson's going toward the goal posts…she missed. That's too bad. Flint has the Quaffle now. Let's hope the git misses like before! You know you want that to happen, too, Professor. Oh! Flint scores. 60 to 70, Slytherin's up."

Harry looked around the Quidditch pitch. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a golden flicker. He looked to the right to see the Snitch flittering around a couple of feet away. He turned the other way, trying to ignore it because he wasn't supposed to go after it, but Leven flew past him to follow the Snitch.

Leven was closer toward the small, golden ball, but Harry was right on his tail. Pushing himself toward the wood of his broomstick, he went faster. His dark hair was flying around madly, but all Harry could think about was getting the Snitch.

"Potter and Leven have seen the Snitch! They're both chasing after it! Come on, Ackley!" yelled Jordan.

The words didn't penetrate Harry's ears, he couldn't hear anything besides the air rushing past him. It was muted all around him.

_Faster. Come on. Get the Snitch,_ Harry thought to himself. He was pushing himself, willing himself to get the Snitch.

The two Seekers were dashing after it, curving and turning to follow it. Eventually, they turned so Harry had the advantage and could get closer to the ball. He willed himself to go faster, which he managed to do as he tried to be one with his broom.

It was two feet from him. Less, he knew. He reached his right hand out, keeping his eye on the Snitch. They turned once more, and they were finally going against the wind, which slowed down the Snitch considerably, though it slowed him as well.

A couple seconds later, the golden Snitch was in Harry's grasp.

"Harry Potter has caught the Snitch! That makes the score 60 to 220 Slytherin," Jordan's disheartened voice bellowed through the stands.

The Slytherin's cheered loudly in the stands. As Harry stopped in mid-air, raising his right hand with the Snitch as he smiled, Flint came up to him, looking furious.

"I told you to wait until we had gotten more than 80 points!" said Flint, his face sweaty and red.

Harry lowered his arm, still holding the golden ball. "Leven went after it! If I didn't chase after him, he would've gotten it! What did you want me to do: watch and hope he didn't get it? I wasn't going to do that!" Harry flew away from his captain, landing on the solid earth.

Cheering was still echoing through the stands as Harry handed Madam Hooch the Snitch. He walked away with the other team members, who also cheered as they patted him on the back.

The Quidditch win made Harry feel dramatically better. The worry about the Chamber of Secrets seemed to vanish before his very eyes as he sat down in the common room, sipping some Butterbeer.

The celebration party had been going on for a while when Hedwig flew into the room, carrying a letter. She landed on his lap, sticking her leg up for him to untie the twine.

Harry put his mug of Butterbeer on the floor near his feet before taking the letter from Hedwig.

We just wanted to make sure you were feeling okay. We heard about you being in St. Mungo's hospital. Ron's mum sent us a letter, saying she had visited you to see that you were all right. By the way, you flew very well today in the game. Ron didn't want me to write that. I guess he thinks it will help you in some way. Anyway, have a good weekend.

Harry smiled at the letter, but stuffed it into his pocket quickly, not wanting anyone around him to see it. He would write back to them later.

As Harry was waking up the next day, he realized he had never told Tom he was a Parselmouth. It seemed to have escaped Harry to tell him. For some reason, he got the feeling Tom would understand and accept the fact that he was, and not take the mickey out of him or say he was the Heir of Slytherin.

Harry laid in bed for a while, thinking about the person he was now truly regarding as a great friend. He and Tom had much in common and Harry found it very easy to talk to him. Tom Riddle wasn't degrading or judgmental, like Draco could be sometimes, he was very understanding. And he was, at times, an even better friend than Draco.

Feeling that he couldn't sit in bed anymore, Harry wrenched the blanket off of himself and got out of bed. After getting dressed, he found the diary in his trunk and sat at the table near the lit fireplace.

Good morning. What is it?

"About two weeks ago, there was a Dueling Club. Everything was going perfectly fine, but Draco made a snake materialize from his wand. I went up to it and told it to leave, but it wouldn't listen and it lunged at Ron. After, Professor Snape told me that I had spoken another language — a language called Parseltongue. What do you think?"

I think that's very interesting. There aren't many people who are Parselmouths. Salazar Slytherin was one, and I am one too.

"You're a Parselmouth?"

Yes, I am. I found out I could talk to snakes while at the orphanage one day. You're not completely alone.

"I found at when I went to the zoo with my aunt, uncle, and cousin. I talked to a snake there. Tom, you're the first person I've met who's also a Parselmouth."

You won't find very many people who are Parselmouths, but even if you do, they're aren't many who will tell people they are willingly. Most people associate it with the Dark Arts.

"Well, Draco knows that I am, and I know he doesn't care that it's associated with the Dark Arts, but he didn't react the way you did. He just assumed I was the Heir of Slytherin, which I'm not! He wouldn't listen to me at all! I think he still believes I'm the heir. He hasn't been very understanding lately."

Malfoy either wants to believe you are the heir for a reason, or he isn't being a very good friend to you.

"He isn't being a very good friend either way."

That's true. He should respect what you are. He shouldn't want you to be something you aren't.

"You're a great friend, Tom. You're very understanding and you aren't judging at all. I wish you weren't stuck in a diary. I wish we could be friends in real life."

I also wish we could meet. You're a very interesting person, Harry, and you're compassionate to all. Maybe if things work out correctly, we can meet.

"What do you mean? How will you get out of the diary?"

In a daze, Harry dropped his quill to the table, closed the book, and stood.

_Go up…_he moved around the table, opened the door, and left the room…_keep going…_he continued up the steps…he went out of the common room, and he walked through the passageways…_go to Entrance Hall…_he kept going, kept walking…he made his way to the main floor…_push the door…_there was cold air on his face and it went through his pajamas, chilling him, but he barely felt it…he recognized a small house…_closer…_he heard a loud, annoying sounds…_open the fence…grab it…_it moved in his hand, trying to get free…_pick one…from the ground…hold it tightly…_he got ready as he held the rock firmly in his hand…_hit it…_he brought the rock down with force…_again…_he did…and again until it was limp…_take another…_it scurried away, but he grabbed it…_do it again…_he brought the rock down upon it…there was blood on the ground…

The freezing air was a shock as the wind hit him. Harry found himself in the rooster pen outside of Hagrid's small house. But he couldn't remember walking there. He looked around to see two roosters lying dead on the earth at his feet. There was some blood on the ground, and that's when he realized he was holding a rock with blood on it.

Without a second thought, Harry dropped it to the ground and took a couple steps back to get away from it. His heart began to pound in his chest, as he ran from the area toward the castle.

Shivering, he hurried into the Entrance Hall and pushed the front doors closed. Still shaking, he walked toward the dungeons. But he stopped suddenly, alarm rising inside of him.

There before him was the first year boy Colin Creevey, his camera up to his face, but he looked frozen, almost like a wax figure. He stood, mid-stride, near the Great Hall doors.

Harry didn't understand what was wrong with him. He stared at Creevey, curious, and alarmed, but then he heard footsteps coming. He couldn't be caught there, not with everyone thinking he was the Heir of Slytherin. Thus, Harry sped down the steps to the Slytherin common room.

A/N: Both plants that the Healer was talking about are real and are toxic to humans.

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**Preview of Chapter 27–Two Down, More To Go:** A couple days after Creevey, someone else is Petrified… 


	27. Two Down, More To Go

"One of the advantages of being disorderly is that one is constantly making exciting discoveries."

-A.A. Milne

A/N: I know that the part with the classroom (you'll see) should have been a while ago in the story, but I wasn't really planning on having it in the story at all, but decided to add it in anyway.

**27**

**Two Down, More To Go**

When Harry came back up the steps with Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle for breakfast, there was a large crowd around the frozen body of Colin Creevey. His unmoving body was still standing there eerily. There were murmurs all around about what had happened to him. No one wanted to go close to him, fearful of what was wrong.

"What the hell is wrong with that kid? Why's he stiff?" Draco asked insensitively.

Beside Harry, Blaise asked, "Do you think it was Slytherin's monster?"

But Blaise hadn't whispered it, and there was a loud gasp from a bunch Ravenclaw students close to them. "I don't know," Harry replied without turning to look at him. He just stared ahead at the frozen first year.

Soft but quickened footsteps came down the stairs leading from the first floor. Dumbledore, followed by McGonagall, came into the Entrance Hall. McGonagall brought her hand to her mouth as she stopped a couple of feet from Creevey. Dumbledore, on the other hand, went right up to him, examining what was wrong.

The crowd quieted down as they watched their headmaster. A couple of moments later, Dumbledore said, "He's been Petrified."

Percy took a couple steps toward Dumbledore, standing somewhat behind him. The group around the Petrified boy remained silent, but Percy asked the question they were all longing to ask.

"By what, Professor?" he asked, a note in his voice sounding as if he didn't really want to know the answer.

"Slytherin's monster," Dumbledore said simply. "Percy, go to Professor Sprout and tell her I'll need to see her in my office in five minutes." Percy Weasley nodded and walked off briskly.

"Will he be all right, Albus?" McGonagall asked, taking a couple steps forward.

"I need to talk to Pomona about her Mandrakes. Once they've matured, they can be used to cure him. Unfortunately, they take months to mature. They might not be ready until the spring."

Afterwards, Dumbledore turned to the students, as if realizing they were there for the first time. "All students return to your common rooms. Breakfast will be brought there shortly. Mr. Creevey must be brought to the Hospital Wing."

Harry, with his friends, went back down the stairs, their stomachs growling and their minds whirling from the fact that Creevey had been Petrified. Harry wasn't really sure what that meant, but it obviously wasn't a good thing, and the fact that Slytherin's monster could do that was even worse.

-------------------------

All anyone would talk about for the next couple of days was the fact that Colin Creevey had been Petrified by Slytherin's monster. It was talked about at breakfast, lunch, and dinner as well as in the corridors between classes. As Harry walked, he heard numerous people talking about it, and what they thought the monster was.

Besides all the talking, no other book in the Library ever had been wanted more than Hogwarts, A History. There were only about half a dozen copies in the school, and they were all in the hands of eager students, who wanted to find out what the monster was. Harry didn't need or want the book, but he constantly saw groups of student's clumped around a student who did.

When Harry walked, the other students watched his movements, watched what he said, watched how he did _everything_. He knew they suspected he was the Heir of Slytherin, but knew deep down that they weren't exactly sure.

On Friday morning in Transfiguration with the Gryffindors, Professor McGonagall was about to tell them what they were going to do in class when Hermione raised her hand quickly.

"Yes, Miss Granger," McGonagall asked, not really looking at her since she was fumbling with papers on her desk.

"I was wondering if you could tell us about the Chamber of Secrets and Slytherin's monster," she asked, lowering her hand slowly.

The room quieted down and McGonagall turned to look at her sharply. Harry looked at her quickly, wondering why she was asking when he knew she had the book everyone yearned for. But he presumed that she yearned for more information, just like they all did.

McGonagall moved from behind her desk to face her students. "Fine," she cleared her throat and started, "As you all know there were four founders of Hogwarts — Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They all worked perfectly well in the beginning, gathering new students to be taught at Hogwarts. But Slytherin wanted to limit the number of Muggle-borns entering the school. He found them untrustworthy, although the other three didn't mind having them enter the school.

"For years they continued to stay friends, but finally there was a great dispute between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and in the end, Slytherin left the school. But before he left, it's said that he created a chamber that only his heir would able to enter. It's not known when it was made, or if it really exists. Dumbledore has checked numerous times, but has found nothing.

"Nonetheless," said McGonagall, "Supposedly, the Chamber of Secrets contains one of the most foul of monsters. The monster would have been placed there, so that when the heir came back, he or she would be able to rid the school of all the Muggle-borns. Something Salazar Slytherin had not succeeded in doing previously."

"What kind of monster?" Seamus Finnigan asked.

"No one knows, but I would imagine it would be something the Heir of Slytherin can control," McGonagall replied.

"Professor, if only the heir can enter the Chamber, then it wouldn't matter if Professor Dumbledore went looking for it," said Hermione. "He couldn't open it anyway."

"Needless to say, Professor Dumbledore has searched for it because…the Chamber was opened fifty years ago," said McGonagall.

Lavender Brown gasped, covering her mouth. "It was opened before?"

"Yes, it was," said McGonagall, shifting from leaning on her left foot to her right. "Fifty years ago, a girl was…killed by the monster. I want all of you to be careful, Muggle-born or not. We have no idea what the monster is, and it would be foolish to assume it won't decide to assault those who are Half- or Pureblood."

Professor McGonagall looked around the classroom; the students were silent as they listened to their teacher. Harry had never thought of the fact that this monster might not want to listen to the Heir and might possibly want to kill or Petrify who it wanted to. Just because the Heir was telling it to target certain people, didn't mean it would.

"Now, let's get to the lesson. We've wasted quite enough time already," she said, taking her wand out.

------------------------------

Harry was starving, and he was content when he was sitting at the Slytherin table after Transfiguration, finally able to eat. He grabbed a tray of food and spooned some potatoes onto his plate, his mouth watering.

As he chewed, his mouth full, he looked to the Staff table to see Dumbledore talking to McGonagall and Flitwick. Harry turned to look at Draco, who had asked him about an ingredient in the potion from Potions class earlier.

About twenty minutes into lunch, Percy Weasley came running into the Great Hall, looking upset and uneasy. "Professor…there's been another attack! Penelope…on the second floor…she's…been Petrified!" Percy said in gasps. He had clearly ran all the way here from somewhere in the castle.

The Headmaster stood up and the students in the Great Hall quieted down considerably. Dumbledore moved swiftly to the doors, his dark blue cloak billowing behind him. In his wake were McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick.

"Everyone is to go to the common rooms…_now_," said Dumbledore quietly, but sternly. He then left the room in a hurry.

As the headmaster left, Harry got a brilliant idea. He stood and whispered to Draco, "I'm gonna go get my Invisibility Cloak. Stay in the back, and I'll meet you in less than five."

Without asking what they were going to, Draco nodded and made his way to the back of the crowd of students leaving the Great Hall. Harry, on the other hand, pushed and weaved his way through to the front. When he was finally at the front, he ran the rest of the way down to the Dungeons, into the common room, and into the dormitory to get his cloak.

Once he was wearing his Invisibility Cloak, Harry began to make his way back to the Entrance Hall. He had to be careful as he was going up the stairs because so many students were going down it that he didn't want to accidentally bump into any one of them.

After bumping into a few people, Harry was at the end of the group. Draco looked bored but excited, as his eyes kept darting around. Harry touched Draco's shoulder, not wanting to scare him. Draco stopped walking and looked around for him. Harry took the cloak and put it over Draco.

"Finally. I thought you'd gotten stuck in the crowd or something," said Draco quietly. "Where're we going?"

"To see the Petrified girl," said Harry with seriousness, as they began to walk up the stairs to the first floor.

"Why?" Draco asked. "Who cares? She's just a Mudblood."

"I want to see what happened to her. And I invited you to come with me because you're my best friend and I thought you'd want to see too," said Harry. He stopped, looking at his friend. "Guess not. If you want to go back, you still have the chance."

Draco stayed quiet for a moment, and then said, "No, I'm coming."

"Good," Harry said, as they continued to walk up the next flight of stairs to the second floor. They walked down a couple corridors until they heard voices down another to the right, and proceeded down it.

A group of teachers were looking at the figure of a tall sixth-year girl with long, black curls. Her stiffened body, with her hands in her robe pockets, was turned toward the window, which she was looking out of.

Harry could see all the this from behind the teachers, but wanted to get closer. So, he and Draco inched forward silently, standing against the wall near the window.

"Second Petrified student this week, Albus," McGonagall said, worried. "We must do something."

After a few moments of worried silence, Parish said, "The students shouldn't walk by themselves anymore, even if they aren't Muggle-born. I think they should walk in pairs or threes. Just in case. It'll make everyone safer."

"Excellent idea," said Flitwick

"Oliver, I would like you to make four bulletins about that tonight, so it can be posted tomorrow morning," said Dumbledore.

"Yes, Professor," Parish replied. "I w–"

"Is she gonna be okay?" Percy asked, distraughtly, out of nowhere. He had come running from one of the corridors. His freckled face was slightly paler than usual and his hair seemed limper.

"Miss Clearwater will be fine once she's given the Mandrake potion later this school year," said Dumbledore. "I must know, how did you know she was up here and in this state?"

"I…er…we were meeting here…to…well, we're in a relationship, Professor," Percy said, quietly, slightly embarrassed to be telling his headmaster this.

Beside him, Draco sniggered. He whispered, "Weasley's. They're traitors to the pureblood name. See, he's been snogging a Mudblood."

"I see. You came here to meet her and you found her like this," said Dumbledore. "I understand. She'll be taken to the Hospital Wing. Later, you'll be able to visit her if you like. For now, I think it's best you go back to the Gryffindor common room."

Percy Weasley left the corridor, walking slowly away, and not soon after, Harry and Draco, under the cloak, were walking back to the Slytherin common room.

They were only there for a few minutes when a letter arrived for Harry. Hedwig came in with a small piece of parchment.

_Where you in the Great Hall during lunch? Did you hear about Penelope Clearwater? She was Petrified! She's the second person in a week! A lot of the Gryffindors are worried it. What about the Slytherins? From, Hermione._

Since Harry didn't have any parchment with him, he just turned over the piece of paper, and, borrowing Blaise's quill and ink, wrote: _Yes, I was in the Great Hall, and I heard about Clearwater. Two is a lot for one week. The Slytherin's here aren't considerably worried, but they're talking about it. Stay safe, Harry._

Harry tied the parchment to Hedwig's leg, and she flew off. He gave Blaise his quill before sitting down near the fireplace in an armchair. He stared at the blazing fire as he heard the other Slytherin's talking about the "Mudblood girl" who was Petrified."

He laid his head back to stare at the ceiling as thoughts drifted in and out of his mind…

**A/N:** I can't believe the final book has been released! We all (or at least those that rushed to finish the book) know the secrets we've been craving for so long! Even with all the secrets out and about, I hope you all continue to read my stories, as I will continue to post them! Happy reading to those who haven't finished yet (myself included)! Why rush something you've been wanting for years? I like savoring! Cheers!

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**Preview of Chapter 28–Animagus Plans:** Harry and Draco begin learning about how to become Animagi, and a third person is Petrified… 


	28. Animagus Plans

"The face is the mirror of the mind, and eyes without speaking confess the secrets of the heart." -St. Jerome 

**28**

**Animagus Plans**

The Animagus book, Animagi: How To Become One, had been resting upside-down on Harry's bedside table for weeks now. He had finished it a long time ago, but had never told Draco and had never gone to get new books from the Library. As he reached over to grab his glasses, he knocked the book to the floor, making a loud thud. That's when the realization hit him that he should catch up on his reading about being an Animagus if he ever wanted to become one.

"Who's making noise?" Goyle asked, groggily, a few beds over.

"Me," said Harry as he yawned. "Sorry." But his words weren't heard. Goyle's irritating snores resonated around the room, drowning out Blaise's.

Yesterday, Penelope Clearwater had been Petrified and it had been talked about all through dinner and in the common room. Two people had been attacked by Slytherin's monster in a week. People were getting nervous, even those that weren't Muggle-born.

Harry grabbed his glasses off the side table, placing them lazily upon his head, and then jumped out of bed. When his feet touched the cold floor it made him more alert, shocking him momentarily. He snatched the large book from the floor and tossed it onto his bed before getting dressed.

His watch said that it was close to 10:30 am. He had really slept in, but Draco and the others always stayed in bed longer than he. Harry, book in hand, went upstairs to the common room.

Posted to the bulletin board was a single sheet of parchment.

_NOTICE_

_From this day on, students must walk around the castle _

_and grounds with one or more other students. Each _

_student must choose another person to be with at all times. _

_If a student is found on his or her own, they will get detention. _

_Keep another student with you at all times!_

_Professor Oliver Parish_

Harry read the notice over again, realizing that he couldn't leave the common room unless he was with another student. Luckily, Adrian Pucey came up from the stairs, his hair a mess. It turned out he was going to breakfast, too, so they walked together.

Most people were leaving the room, so he was able to put the book on the table without people glancing over and giving him a look. Not that that had ever happened before; he just didn't want it to happen now.

When Harry was in the middle of breakfast, Draco came in, looking tired. "Sleep well?" Harry asked.

Draco yawned, which told Harry that his sleep had been okay. His best friend sat down beside him, and was about to reach for the orange juice when he saw the Animagus book, and stopped.

"Forgot about that," said Draco, looking intently at the cover. He then reached for the container and poured himself a glass.

"So did I," said Harry, "but I was thinking we could start over again. We're not doing anything today and if we want to become Animagi, then we need to do some serious reading."

"Where're we gonna read?" Draco asked. "We certainly can't do it in the common room."

Quickly, Harry said, "Room of Buried Secrets. We're the only ones that know about it."

Draco nodded, his mouth full. Harry continued, "While you finish eating, I'll go collect a bunch of books for us to read. You'll have to give me some time to get them and bring them there, so I'll meet you in the Room of Buried Secrets in…say, forty-five minutes?"

"Sounds good. I'll get some parchment to write on, a bottle of ink, and two quills since we might want to take notes or something," said Draco.

Taking a last sip from his goblet, Harry then took the book from the table and quickly exited the Great Hall. He hastily made his way into the common room, where lazy students sat resting and talking, and then down to the stairs. Harry wasn't sure where the opening was, since every time going in the tunnel had been accidental, so he pushed on the stones as he went down.

Eventually, Harry pushed a stone that went in, and took a step back. The stones flew away and without further ado, he ran into the dark tunnel, taking his wand out as he did. "_Lumos!_" As he ran, he held his lit wand in front of him. He went forward for a while, and then took the passageway that maneuvered to the right. Not soon after, the tunnel went to the left, and he came upon the door to the Restricted Section of the Library.

Harry pressed the door, which began to revolve, showing him the bookcases behind. He jumped through when it was open enough, relieved to be through. Since there were windows in the Library, he no longer needed his wand. "_Nox!_" He put it in his pocket.

Taking precautions to be unheard, Harry put the book he had finished reading back on the shelf where he had found it. No one was in the Restricted Section, but there were tables near the shelves he was at, so he remained quiet.

He took a couple of minutes to read through most of the titles, taking the ones that seemed easiest to get through, but seemed to have a lot of valuable information. There were a lot more books on becoming an Animagus that he had originally thought. The books took up shelves and shelves.

When he had as many books as he could carry without falling over, which was seven massive books, he went through the revolving door, back into the tunnels. Harry moved as quickly as he could while carrying the books, and was relieved about fifteen minutes later, when he was walking toward the Room of Buried Secrets.

With his hands full, Harry tapped his foot on the small, wooden door. "Draco!"

The door opened, and he made his way inside. Harry dumped the books on the blue couch before taking a long, much needed breath.

The two boys laid out the books, each taking one, and then sat on separate couches to read. Harry opened the book and turned to the first page, about to read, when Draco spoke.

"Since you already read a book, tell me what you learned from it, so that I'm not going into this blind."

"Well, I learned that the Ministry teaches new Animagi a spell to help them change, since the process is so complicated. The spell is 'Animagus,' which sounds simple, but it's still complicated. Some starters have turned into half-human, half-animal people. The spell will temporarily turn us into an animal, but the change will only last, at first, a few minutes, probably not even. But as we get better, the changes will last longer, and, eventually, we won't even need to use the spell at all. We'll be able to transform at will."

Draco nodded as he said, "Let's get started. 'Change at will.' I like the way that sounds."

----------------------------

For hours, the two of them sat in near silence, reading. The only sounds made were by the turning of their pages, by the rearranging of their bodies on the couches, or when they were telling each other information they had learned from the books. And at one point, when they were both starving, Draco volunteered to get them food and bring it back up there.

As they worked, Harry wrote down little tidbits that he thought would be useful to know later, like the fact that after they use the spell to transform, they shouldn't transform again until a day or two later. They're bodies have to get used to the change before they can do it repeatedly in quick succession.

----------------------------

During the next week, after class and after Harry's Quidditch practice, Harry and Draco would go back to the Room of Buried Secrets to read. They left the books in the room since they didn't want to risk them being seen in the common room or dormitory.

The two of them were learning a lot about the process of becoming Animagi, and were also getting smarter in general from the fact that they were reading, but they were far from over. They had a lot to learn and a lot to do. They both knew they wouldn't be ready for the actual transformations for at least a year.

But they were okay with that. Harry and Draco wanted to do it correctly. They didn't want to mess up, especially since they weren't using the Ministry for guidance. And if they ever did make a mistake, they would have to confess that they had been attempting to become Animagi, and they could get in serious trouble for it. So they had to take things slow or risk ending up in Azkaban.

"Harry," Draco asked, on the first Thursday evening of December, "what animal do you think you'll be?"

Harry stopped reading, on the orange couch, to look up at his gray-eyed friend. "I dunno. I've thought about it."

"I've been thinking about it, too, but I'm not sure what animal I'm most like," said Draco. "What do you think I'll be?"

"Hmm…a goat. Definitely, a goat," Harry said, jokingly, as he began to chuckle.

"I don't want to be a goat! That's not funny!" said Draco, starting to smile. "Well, you know what you're gonna be? A cockroach! A big, hairy cockroach!"

"Cockroaches aren't hairy, idiot!" Harry said, still laughing.

They took the mickey out of each other for a while, but when they ran out of insults to use, they went back to reading, which the two of them did until they got hungry. Harry and Draco bookmarked their books, placed them aside, and went down to the Great Hall for a much wanted dinner.

---------------------------------

The first class of the day on Friday was Potions with the Hufflepuffs. It wasn't the Hufflepuffs that made him sigh in anguish; it was the Professor – Severus Snape. The man was evil in Harry's opinion. Luckily, he hadn't seen much of Snape this year, besides in class.

Harry sat with Draco at one of the middle tables, his textbook and cauldron out in front of him. Snape was nowhere in sight, so he was probably in his office, which was adjacent to the classroom.

The bell to begin class rang, and suddenly Professor Snape stepped through the door, his footsteps echoing vibrantly off the cold walls. "Now that everyone's here…turn to page 215," he said as he faced the class at the front of the room, his eyes darting around.

Harry opened his textbook and turned slowly to the page, glancing over the words on the other pages without really reading.

"Macmillan, where's Finch-Fletchley?" Snape asked, not really caring.

"He said he was going to the toilet, Professor," said Ernie Macmillan, who was also turning the pages of his book.

"Read the instructions for the second potion on the page. I want it finished and bottled by the end of the class. If it's not, it'll be five points from your House," instructed Snape. He then began to walk around the room, helping and hindering the students.

Halfway through the class period, Harry had come to the time in the instructions when the potion had to sit for ten minutes. As he sat down, waiting, he realized he had to go to the toilet.

Professor Snape passed by them, inspecting his first with a sneer on his face and then Draco's with a look of approval. "Professor, may I go to the toilet?"

"Potter, have you added ginger root? Knotgrass blades? Bile?" Snape asked Harry, who nodded at each. "Fine, but quickly."

Harry looked at Draco, who was just adding the Bile. "Be back." Draco nodded, turning to his cauldron.

Without further ado, he left the dank, dark classroom, happy to be away from Snape. He hastily went down the corridor and into the loo. As Harry went into the first stall, he saw a person at the sink out of the corner of his eye; he heard water coming out of the tap. Not a minute later, he came out, and went toward the sinks to wash his hands.

But didn't dare go any closer.

Staring, blankly, into the mirror above one of the sinks was Justin Finch-Fletchley. His body was stiff; his hands were immobilized in a cupped position as water washed over them.

Harry took a couple of steps back. He didn't know what to do. Should he tell someone and risk being thought of as the person who attacked Finch-Fletchley, or should he just pretend he never saw the scene before him and go back to the Potions classroom?

The Heir of Slytherin. No doubt people would repeatedly stare at him, thinking he was so. Thus, Harry left the room in a rush, making his way back to the classroom.

Luckily, his potion began to bubble, which took his mind off what he had just witnessed. He added the correct ingredients as the book said, not sure if he were really doing it accurately, but went forward nonetheless. He added the next ingredient with a shaking hand.

"You all right?" Draco asked next to him.

"Err…yeah," said Harry. "I'm fine."

A table over, Macmillan asked, "Have you two seen Justin?" to Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones, who were sitting at the table in front of him.

"No, sorry," Bones said. "I only saw him at breakfast."

Harry couldn't wait for the class to be over. He was moving impatently as he stood in front of his cauldron. His watch told him the class would end in ten minutes, but it seemed like forever. If he could be a farther distance from Finch-Fletchley, he knew he would be less edgy and tense. Harry really wanted to leave.

Out of nowhere, the Potions classroom door opened. Standing in the doorway was a Ravenclaw girl with long black hair. She looked bothered and in a rush. "Professor."

"What is it, Chang?" Snape asked, standing up from behind his desk.

"Headmaster Dumbledore wants all the students to return to their common rooms," Chang said almost in one breath. "A boy named Justin was Petrified." She then ran off, probably to tell another classroom full of students.

"In groups, go to your common rooms," said Snape. "_Quickly._"

"Another Mudblood attacked," Draco whispered beside Harry. "The Heir is really getting to business."

"So you don't think it's me?" Harry asked as he grabbed his textbook and bag.

"Not really. I don't think you'd attack people on purpose," said Draco.

"I'm glad you _finally_ believe me," said Harry, as they exited the classroom, making their way down the corridor to the Slytherin common room.

**A/N:** Harry's reaction to seeing Justin was very different than how Gyrffindor Harry would've reacted, don't you think? Hmm…**

* * *

**

**Preview of Chapter 29--The Malfoy Circle of Friends:**

An excellent Christmas holiday begins for Harry, especially since he's been added to the Malfoy Circle of Friends…


	29. The Malfoy Circle of Friends

"I am a part of all that I have met."

-Alfred Tennyson

**29**

**The Malfoy Circle of Friends**

Although Justin Finch-Fletchley had been Petrified yesterday, Dumbledore allowed another Dueling Club to go through, probably in hopes that the students would be able to take their minds off the Petrifying and the Chamber of Secrets. The notice, which had been posted early in the morning, said that more teachers would be present later that evening just in case anything happened.

Harry, Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle walked toward the Great Hall just before eight pm. As they walked, Harry saw Hagrid walking up the first floor stairs, looking distressed and worried.

Tom had told him that Hagrid had been the one to attack all those students fifty years ago, but was he the one doing it now? Was he the one who had Petrified those three students? Harry knew Hagrid was compassionate to all – human and creature. Was there a dark side to him that Harry had never seen? That no one had ever seen?

The thought of going to Dumbledore was fresh in his mind, but he couldn't. If Harry went to the headmaster and told him that he knew about Hagrid, then Dumbledore would ask how he found out. And he didn't want to say that a memory in a diary had told him. If he did, his friend might be taken away from him. He couldn't let that happen. But he also couldn't let the Muggle-borns be attacked anymore.

Harry was conflicted. As he walked through the Great Hall doors, he knew he would keep an eye on Hagrid and keep quiet at the moment. But if another attack occurred, he would go straight to Dumbledore.

Professor Parish came up to him after he entered the large room. "Harry, Dumbledore wanted me to inform you that you're not allowed to participate."

"Why?" Harry asked, curious.

"Because of last time. He doesn't want anything to happen that could possibly harm another student," said Parish. Harry's face must have held a look of disbelief because Parish said, "It's not you, Harry. It's the Heir. Dumbledore doesn't think it's you, but he knows the other students do, so he wants to take precautions."

"Why couldn't he tell me this personally?" Harry asked.

"You have to understand the fact that he's busy. Look at it from his point of view," said Parish. "He's the headmaster of a school where the students are being attacked. He's a bit tense, although he hides it well, and he has every right to be. Give him a break, Harry."

"You're right," said Harry, as he nodded.

"I don't want to be," said Parish, solemnly.

---------------------------------

It was now a common ordeal to have to wear tons of layers beneath the Hogwarts robes since it was cold in the corridors, but it was even more freezing outside. Snow and ice layered on the stones of the castle and the grounds outside. The tops of the trees in the Forbidden Forest even had a layer of snow resting atop them. It was hard to see through the windows since most of them had a thin layer of translucent ice frozen to it.

It was, at times, so cold in the castle that Filch had to put more torches up in the corridors and common rooms. Even the fire in the fireplaces seemed heartier. And Harry was happy about that. He didn't fancy sleeping in a cold room.

Saturday afternoon, Snape came into the common room to collect the names of those staying during the Christmas break. Surprisingly, there were a lot of Slytherin students staying – a lot more than usual.

Harry also received a letter from Ron and Hermione, telling him that they would also be staying for the holiday. He was happy they were since he enjoyed being around them, although he rarely got to with Draco around.

It was just a week later and the Hogwarts Express came into the station just off the grounds. Many students, including Professor Parish, which was a rarity, left the castle for the break. Parish was obviously leaving to see his family since he had been missing them greatly and hadn't seen them in more than three months. The students who left were obviously scared that something would happen, and it was safest at their homes at the moment.

The first days of the Christmas holiday were blissful, despite the fact that he was nervous another attack would occur. Harry woke up late every morning, feeling rested and relaxed, he ate tons of wonderful food at mealtimes, feeling heartily full, and he also researched plenty with Draco, slowly getting smarter about Animagi as well as other subjects.

He was now reading, not only books about the process of becoming an Animagus, but books from the Library on potions, transfiguration, spells and charms, plants, and even the dark arts. Over the holiday, he had even begun to read some of his textbooks, getting a head start on the rest of the year.

Before then, Harry had never fancied reading, but for some reason he didn't mind it anymore; he rather enjoyed it. He enjoyed knowing that he was learning a great deal from reading the books.

At one point, Draco had found him reading in the Room of Buried Secrets, so Harry told him he was now reading for pleasure, and at first Draco had found it odd, but began to do so as well.

As the two of them sat down to read, Harry thought of what Ron and Hermione would say if they saw them. Hermione, of course, would be most pleased to see them reading. Ron, on the other hand, would probably think they had gone mad or something.

But as he, Harry, turned the page and read on, he knew he didn't care. He relished in the idea that he might one day become as smart as Hermione.

----------------------------------

Despite the rules, which said no one could walk the corridors alone, Harry went to the Great Hall, the day before Christmas, for breakfast by himself. He was starving and didn't want to wait for Draco or anyone else to wake up.

As Harry walked, sleepily, toward the large room, he saw Ron and Hermione huddled on the stairs between the first and ground floors. They were standing close to each other, so he guessed they were talking about something secretive. Curious, Harry edged closer, hiding near the side of the stairs so he remained unseen.

"—it being like that? You're certain?" Ron asked, quietly.

"Quite certain. It's the right color and I know I did everything correctly," said Hermione with some pride.

"All right. When're we going to use it?" asked Ron, some hesitation in his voice.

"Tonight," Hermione whispered. "We have to make sure."

"But…he – you really think he would—?"

"No, of course not!"

"Then why are we—?"

"I told you: We have to make sure," said Hermione sternly. "You know I would rather do it some other way, but I don't see any other options."

"All right," Ron said slowly. After a slight pause, he added, "Let's get some breakfast."

The two Gryffindors went the rest of the way down the stairs and into the Great Hall, never knowing Harry had been listening. The only problem was Harry had no idea what they were talking about. It was obvious Hermione had made something, although he didn't know what, and they were going to use whatever they had made tonight to make sure of something.

Harry thought about it as he went into the Great Hall, and did continually all day. Even as he practiced Quidditch on the pitch with the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team. He desperately wanted to know what his friends were up to, but he knew he couldn't just go and ask.

Hours later after a delectable Christmas Eve dinner, Harry sat lazily in the Slytherin common room, reading a book on how to build expertise on transfiguring objects. Draco sat on a couch near him, using his wand to knock over the row of goblets he had set up on one of the tables. Whenever he knocked another goblet over, he let out a "Yes!"

Every time Harry turned another page, he thought about the fact that Ron and Hermione were out in the castle somewhere, using whatever they had made. He wondered what it was, but already knew he couldn't ask. He would have to tell them that he had overheard. But did his two Gryffindor friends suspect someone was the Heir of Slytherin? Is so, who?

The stone opening slid away and in walked Crabbe and Goyle. Their robes were covered in crumbs and Crabbe's was wet near the top; he had obviously spilt something on himself. "Have you two been in the Great Hall all this time?" Draco asked, turning away from his knocking over goblets. Harry looked up from his book.

"Yes, we've been having desert," said Crabbe, oddly polite. The two of them were standing somewhat stiffly.

"You, mates, eat too much," said Draco.

"I think you both should sit," said Harry with a look of slight distaste as he thought about how much they had eaten. Goyle especially looked as if he was going to puke. "You look like you're going to burst."

Crabbe and Goyle sat down on the same couch next to each other, their legs together, looking uncomfortable. "Are you two okay?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, we're good," said Goyle, as Crabbe began to wipe all the crumbs off of his robes.

"What're you reading, Harry?" Crabbe asked.

Harry looked at him oddly for a second. Crabbe never called him by first name; it was always by his surname. But he disregarded it and said, "Book on transfiguration. I'm also reading the transfiguration textbook, and the other textbooks." He nodded to the books on the table beside the couch.

"You're reading the textbooks?" Goyle asked, incredulously.

Harry stared at him again, mystified. Both Crabbe and Goyle knew he read a lot now, and that he was reading all the textbooks. He had told them last week when they had asked the same questions, but he didn't think much of it. Crabbe and Goyle weren't the brightest people in the world, and they constantly forgot things.

"Yeah, you two know this," said Harry. "I told you already."

"All that food, you know, must be making us forget things," said Crabbe.

"Yeah, sure. It's the food," said Draco, sarcastically. "Keep telling yourself that, Crabbe."

"So…do you, mates, know anything about the Heir of Slytherin?" asked Goyle. "Do you know who it is?"

Both Harry and Draco turned to look at each other. What was wrong with the two of them? Were they losing their memory or something?

"We've had this conversation," said Draco. "Surely, you can't forget something we've talked about at least a million times."

"You know we have no idea who the heir is," said Harry. "No one knows, but, of course, everyone thinks it's me."

"But it's not you?" asked Crabbe.

"Of course it's not me!" exclaimed Harry, slightly offended, although he knew he shouldn't be. "What is wrong with you two?"

"Are you, mates, always under a rock or something?" Draco asked. He then knocked over another goblet with his a spell.

Just then, Blaise pushed his way through a couple of groups of older students to get to them. "Hey," he said. He plopped down beside Harry on the couch. "Did you two bring me any desert?" Blaise asked of Crabbe and Goyle, but they shook their heads.

A minute later, Flint came over to them. "We're taking bets on which Mudblood'll be Petrified next. Any of you wanna join?"

Harry and Draco shook their heads. Blaise said, "No, I'm tired." As Flint walked away, he added, "The older students bet too fast."

"You've bet?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. I bet a while ago that the Hufflepuff boy Justin Finch-Fletchley would be Petrified," said Blaise. "Earned a good deal of Galleons after he was!"

Crabbe made, Harry could have sworn, a sound of disgust. He turned to look at him, but his face looked like it always did – vacant of all thought.

"I made a bet, too, Zabini," said Draco, coming closer to the couch to talk to Blaise.

"Who'd you bet on?" Blaise asked.

"Granger," Draco said maliciously. "I hate that know-it-all Mudblood."

Harry glared at him for a moment, but couldn't say anything at the moment – not in front of Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle. But for some reason, Goyle was standing, his hands clenched into fists.

"What's up with you?" asked Draco.

"Err – nothing," Goyle said quickly.

Crabbe looked at Goyle, and suddenly said, "Oh my!" He then said something else to Goyle, but Harry couldn't hear it. The two of them darted away, going toward the common room entrance.

"Where are you two going?" Draco asked.

"Too much food. Hospital Wing," replied Crabbe.

"Headache," said Goyle, his hands on his head.

Draco and Blaise turned away, but Harry continued to watch them walk swiftly away. Goyle lowered his hands and he would bet on anything that he saw Goyle's hair turning bright red.

It was kind of late and he had been reading for a while, maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him.

About a half-hour later, Harry disregarded his first thought that he had seen Goyle's hair turning red because he came in with Crabbe, both of them perfectly fine, his hair as brown as ever.

-------------------------

"Wake up, wake up!" Draco said loudly with cheerfulness. "It's Christmas!"

Harry immediately sat up in his bed and grabbed his glasses quickly off the side table. He pulled the blanket off of himself and jumped to the floor to get to the large pile of presents at the foot of his bed.

Harry practically teared the wrappings off the first present. It was a book about famous Quidditch teams and interesting facts about them. Pleased, he put the book on his bed, and read the letter in big, unorganized handwriting.

_Harry, Happy Christmas! I hope you like the book! Your friend, Ron._

The second present of a book about famous wizards and witches in history was from Blaise. The third was a finely wrapped gift in blue paper, which was the next one closest to him. Harry took the paper off quickly to see a Snitch; only this one was slightly smaller and more bronze in color. It gently fluttered out of the box, but before it could get too far, Harry snatched it from the air, smiling.

_Harry, I just want you to know that I don't think you're the Heir of Slytherin. I didn't mean to offend or upset you. Merry Christmas. Draco._

Next to the gift he had gotten from Draco was a thin, rectangular white box that had only a black ribbon around it. He opened it slowly to see a marvelous, expensive-looking green eagle-feather quill.

_Harry, You've been added to the Malfoy Circle of Friends. These certain chosen people are friends that the Malfoy's know are respectful, loyal, and, most importantly, trust-worthy. To show this, we give out luxury quills. Congratulations. Happy Christmas. The Malfoy's._

Delicately, Harry picked up the beautiful quill and turned to his best friend. "Draco," he said, showing him the quill.

"I told my father you should be added to the family's group of friends, and he said I was correct in thinking so," said Draco, smiling. "Welcome."

Harry nodded, smiling wider, as he turned back to his presents. The next present was from Hermione. It was a large book containing information on diverse potions, how to make them, and what ingredients were needed to formulate them.

_Harry, Happy Christmas! I heard Crabbe and Goyle talking about how you like to read, so I thought you might like a book on potions. I've already read it and I can guarantee you it's a very useful and informative book. Sincerely, Hermione._

There were two presents left. He picked up a plain-looking box and opened it. Inside were some small coffee cakes and a note in scratchy handwriting that said: _Harry, I'll be relaxing in me cabin during the holiday. Dumbledore told me I could get a small break from taking care of the grounds. So, if you want to come over for some tea, I'll be here. Merry Christmas, Harry! Hagrid._

The last present he opened was something he wasn't expecting. Harry pulled out a green sweater with a yellow "H" on the front. From reading the letter, he found out that Mrs. Weasley had made the warm-looking sweater for him. Harry smiled widely as he held up his Weasley sweater.

---------------------------------

Snow began to fall gently over the Hogwarts grounds later that evening, as Harry and Draco sat down for a very appetizing Christmas dinner.

Twelve massive, beautifully decorated Christmas trees lined the Great Hall. Deep red stockings and bows hung on the walls. Cinnamon, cranberry, and evergreen-smelling candles were suspended over the tables, giving off alluring aromas, as holly and mistletoe hung in the air. Warm snow fell from the ceiling, disappearing before it touched anyone.

Dumbledore was even wearing a festive robe and wizard's hat, which were both dark red with gold and green designs on it. He stood up in his seat, holding a goblet, before the food had appeared on the tables.

"Good evening, everyone!" said Dumbledore, gleefully. "I know this year has been a difficult one, but Christmas is a time of relaxation and a chance to set aside our worries to take pleasure in the holidays. I hope you all can enjoy yourselves and the people around you. Happy Christmas! Let the feast begin!"

Dumbledore brought his glass up, as if saying, "Cheers!" and then brought it to his lips, a soft twinkle in his eyes. When he brought the goblet down, he looked at Harry, who looked back at him. Dumbledore gave him a soft smile, and Harry couldn't help but smile as well…it must be the festive atmosphere.

**

* * *

**** Scene of the Crime:**

Harry's found at the scene of where another student has been Petrified…


	30. Scene of the Crime

"Conscience is the inner voice, which warns us that someone may be looking."

-H.L. Mencken

**30**

**Scene of the Crime**

"Where-is-that-book?" Harry asked himself, as he searched his trunk. He moved a bunch of robes and his broom polishing kit aside to look for it. But after moving a couple more items, something heavy and golden fell to the bottom of his trunk, but in plain view.

He hadn't seen the object since last year.

Harry picked up the golden box that had a large red ruby on the top and stared at it, slightly marveled. It was a truly beautiful box, but he knew he didn't need it. Suddenly, he remembered the key that went with it. A minute later, he found it in a side pocket of his trunk, and set it into the keyhole.

After hearing a click, he opened the box. Like before the piece of parchment lay within, the elegant, small handwriting upon it. Harry read it over, although he already knew what it said.

_12 Grimmauld Place_

Beneath the paper was a large ring with a opaque black stone in it. He was tempted to try it on one last time, but decided against it, and instead closed the box. He put it, as well as the key, into his left pocket.

It was the day after Christmas and it was kind of late, so he knew that if he closed the curtains around his bed, his friends would think he had gone to sleep. No one would know he had gone into the tunnels that branch off the stairs. But that's exactly what he did.

But before leaving to go into the tunnels, there was one more object he needed: the golden coin. He put it in his pocket and then went on his way.

When Harry got to the spider web-filled room at the end of the tunnels, he said, "_Moenia Permeo._" Those were the words that had formed upon the surface of the coin. He felt himself being almost leapt forward as he found himself in the small room in Dumbledore's office.

As Harry stood in the dark, closet-like room, he could hear someone, who he guessed to be Dumbledore, whistling to himself in the larger room. At least the whistling might mask the sounds Harry may accidentally make.

Finding the box labeled "Phineas Nigellus" was not difficult. Harry lit his wand and searched in the area where it had been last year – it was in the same place. Slowly and quietly, he opened the box and, carefully, placed the golden box and key within.

After closing the box, he went towards the door. Dumbledore was still whistling, merrily, to himself. Harry smiled at the soft, soothing sound of his headmaster's word-less song.

-----------------------------

It was a now a fresh new year. The snow fell gingerly over the grounds, making the land around the castle look picturesque since it was covered in a new coat of fluffy, white snow. But the cloudless sky wasn't gray, it was bright and surprisingly very blue.

A couple days into the new year, and the rest of the student body, as well as Professor Parish, were back at Hogwarts. The first question the Slytherin's who had left asked was: Was anyone else Petrified?

To Harry and the rest of the school, excluding the other Slytherin's, it was a relief that no one had been attacked during the holiday. But how long would it be until someone else was Petrified? Harry wasn't sure. No one was…save for the Heir of Slytherin. But no one knew who he or she was.

As the unknown heir walked among them, classes began again that Monday. As Harry sat with Draco in the common room before their first class, Defense Against the Dark Arts, he saw his best friend writing a letter.

He was so used to the fact that Draco wrote letters that he never really gave it a second thought anymore. But for some reason, he was curious today. Was the letter really going to his father, like he always said, or was its destination someone else? And what was he writing about anyway?

Draco finished the letter and sent it off with his owl, Mider. With hardly any time to get to Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry saw that Draco didn't bother to put away his quill, but just kept it in his right hand as he picked up his bag. They started on their way to class.

For a while there was mostly silence, but near the third floor Harry asked about the letter.

"Were you writing to your father _again_?" asked Harry, somewhat casually. "Merlin, he likes to see what you're up to, doesn't he?"

"I guess," said Draco unemotionally.

"What are you always writing to him about?" asked Harry curiously.

"Stuff," Draco said, not looking at him.

"What kind of stuff?" Harry intruded. "What does he always want to know about?"

"Will you just drop it!" exclaimed Draco, pausing in his walking for a second. He continued on with Harry right behind him. They were in front of the Dark Arts classroom now.

"You don't have to get defensive, I was just asking," said Harry.

"Well its my business. So bugger off!" snapped Draco. He opened the door to the Dark Arts classroom.

They entered the candle-lit classroom to see that class hadn't started yet. The other students were murmuring to each other and Professor Parish was standing behind his desk, rummaging through papers.

"You bugger off!" retorted Harry, as he walked further into the classroom. "If you don't want me to ask about your letters than write them in private!"

"There's no _private_ in Hogwarts! I'm constantly with other people. I can't help that!"

"Never heard of the loo?"

"You write your letters in the toilet, do you? Other people—"

"Boys! There's no yelling in my classroom," said Professor Parish. "Sit down, or it will be detention for the both of you."

They made for the only empty table left, but couldn't help but give each other more comments.

"Normal people don't write their letters in the toilet, Potter."

"I didn't mean in the stall, you dunce!"

"Don't call me a dunce, Scarhead!" as he slammed the quill against the table.

Harry saw Draco reach for his wand, but he wasn't quick enough. Draco muttered a spell and the quill on the table levitated. Harry knew he was going to aim the quill at him – pointed end forward. He had enough time to move his head away from the quill that was speeding toward him. But as he turned his head away, he saw that the quill was heading for the person behind him: Professor Parish.

The Dark Arts professor moved his head just in time for it to narrowly miss him. Parish's face was turning red in anger from knowing that he could have been injured by something as trivial as a quill and also that it would have been his student's doing. The sharp end of Draco's quill was now stuck in the wall.

Parish's voice was slightly raised in exasperation. "That's it! Potter, you're sitting with Longbottom. Malfoy, you're with Nott. No talking! Fifty points from Slytherin for your foolishness." Their professor, who usually remained calm, called for the quill, caught it, and then slammed it onto the table in front of Draco. "_Now_, let's begin class."

-------------------------

No other Muggle-borns had been Petrified since December and it was now nearing the end of January. All people within the castle were taking a much-needed breath from the worry that they might be next. But their intake of fresh air would be throttled right at the throat when yet another person would be Petrified.

As Harry, Draco, and Blaise walked to their first period class of Charms on Tuesday morning, they came across Peeves taking the mickey out of Moaning Myrtle right outside her abandoned loo.

"Moaning Myrtle! Moping Myrtle! Big eye-glasses Myrtle!" screeched Peeves, as the sound of his voice trembled down the corridor.

"Go away, Peeves! Don't make fun of my glasses!" Myrtle yelled back, somewhat distraughtly.

"Moaning Myrtle is moping! Keep moaning, Moping Myrtle!" Peeves yelled.

Myrtle was exasperated, so she flew into the loo. Harry could hear her turning on the rusting faucets and making a commotion inside. All Peeves did was laugh before flying away.

"Ghosts," Draco said simply before the three of them way their way to class.

Charms was always chaotic, but nevertheless entertaining. As the students practiced a new spell, people talked loudly. But it when students said the spell wrong, which caused objects to go flying or things to explode, that really made the class enjoyable. Harry relished in that fact, but also because, sometimes, it was he and Draco that caused things to explode. They had learned many new spells from reading books, and at times it was very beneficial.

The two of them, because of reading so many books, were doing quite well in the class. In fact, Harry and Draco were doing exceptionally well in every class. The two of them were quickly becoming the smartest in their year…with the exception of Hermione, who remained the most intelligent. She was still a lot cleverer than them, and Harry knew she would remain so, but he was okay with it. Draco wasn't, but he ignored it when his best friend ranted on.

The only class Harry wasn't doing very well in was Potions. He knew that almost all the potions he made were perfect or nearly so, but Snape failed to take notice – or rather noticed but ignored the fact – and usually ended up giving him P's on his potions. Draco, who wasn't as good in Potions as he, ended up getting A's.

When Charms ended, Flitwick said, "Wait in the hall! I don't have to teach next period, so I'll walk you to class."

When the class was on the second floor, making their way down to the first floor for History of Magic, Harry heard a voice he hadn't heard in a long time.

"_Let me rip…let me tear…let me kill…_"

Since Harry was at the back, he just broke away from the group to follow the voice. Neither Draco nor Blaise realized since they were talking to each other about the spell they had just learned.

"_Let me rip…_"

The creepy voice trailed back, away from the stairs to the first floor, so Harry followed it through a couple of corridors. He kept his hands against and his right ear near the cold stonewalls as he walked quickly. When the voice rounded a corner, he did so as well, not caring or noticing in which direction he went.

Harry stopped dead when he saw someone Petrified down the hall, right outside Moaning Myrtle's loo. Curious, but still worried someone would find him there, he went towards the person.

When he got closer, he saw that it was Terry Boot, a Ravenclaw in his year. He was crouched down as he tied his left shoe. His hands were still holding the separate laces as he looked down. Nearly touching the shoe Boot was frozen in tying was a puddle of water.

In fact, there were numerous large puddles. While Harry had been in class, Myrtle must have flooded the whole loo because of what Peeves had said, and it obviously leaked into the corridor.

Harry bent down to look into Boot's face. Had he seen the monster? Would his face show the fear of it? Boot's face didn't look scared, but his eyes were slightly narrowed. Harry traced the boy's line of vision and realized he had been looking into the puddle of water, not at his untied shoe.

"_What're you doing?" _someone asked out nowhere.

Harry stood up quickly to see Professor Flitwick. He wasn't sure if it showed or not, but he was fearful of what his professor thought he had been doing. "Nothing. Professor, it wasn't me! I didn't do anything!" he tried.

"You've been found at the scene of the crime, Potter," said Flitwick, trying to sound strong. "Only Dumbledore can resolve this."

Flitwick made Harry walk in front of him as they made their way to Dumbledore's office. "Pumpkin Pasties,"Flitwick said. The stairs began to move and Harry jumped on first, followed by small Professor Flitwick. "Stay here," he said as he opened the door after knocking first.

For a minute, Harry waited outside, hearing the two men's muffled voices. When the door opened, Flitwick was leaving. Dumbledore told Harry to enter, which he did, though hesitantly.

"Professor, it wasn't me!" Harry exclaimed. "I just found him there! I didn't do anything!"

"Harry. Harry!" said Dumbledore. "I do not think you're the heir."

"You don't?"

"Not at all," said Dumbledore calmly. "Please, sit." When Harry had, his headmaster continued, "I never did."

"But, Professor, you didn't let me participate the second time the Dueling Club met," said Harry, who was sitting rather uncomfortably in one of the armchairs before Dumbledore's desk.

"Didn't Professor Parish explain to you why?"

"Sort of…yes," said Harry quietly.

"Do you understand my reasoning?" asked Dumbledore. "Although I do not believe you're the Heir of Slytherin, I am aware that the rest of the believes you are. And I must warn you that after being found near Mr. Boot's body, they will surely think of you as the one controlling the monster. Because of this, I didn't want the other students to think I wasn't doing anything. It has nothing to do with you, Harry, but with the rest of the school."

"I understand, Professor," said Harry, looking into his headmaster's blue eyes.

"Harry, is something bothering you?" Dumbledore asked, his fingers intertwined on his desk.

"Err…no," Harry said.

Should he tell Dumbledore about the fact that he knew it was Hagrid? Harry knew the decision would be easier if he and Dumbledore were on better terms with each other, but, unfortunately, they weren't. The decision formed into a lump in his throat and he didn't know how to get rid of it.

In the end, Harry said, "Actually, there is…"

A/N: P stands for Poor and A stands for Acceptable. Hope you liked the chapter!

**

* * *

****Murmurs:**

It seems that everywhere Harry goes someone is talking about him, even his best friend, but things turn out better when he goes to Hagrid's…


	31. Murmurs

"Lying is done with words and also with silence."  
-Adrienne Rich

**31**

**Murmurs**

"Actually, there is, Professor," Harry said. "I know who the heir is."

"Who?"

"Hagrid," said Harry quietly, not looking at Dumbledore. "I know he opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago."

"Who told you this?" Dumbledore inquired calmly.

"I…uh…heard some older students talking about it in the common room."

"Do you really think it's Hagrid, Harry?"

"I'm not sure, Professor," replied Harry. "I don't want it to be though."

"Well, I don't believe it's Hagrid; just as I'm sure it's not you," Dumbledore said kindly, a small smile reaching his face. His eyes twinkled slightly.

Harry nodded surely and positively. He was happy to hear that Dumbledore didn't think it was Hagrid. And although Harry didn't admit it to himself, he still trusted what Dumbledore said. He still trusted Dumbledore, even if Dumbledore didn't trust him.

"What can I do so the other students won't think I'm the Heir of Slytherin, Professor?" Harry asked.

"For one, you should try to make sure you are nowhere near the scene of where someone is Petrified. Hopefully, no more people will be Petrified this year, but try to not be anywhere near them if you can help it," instructed Dumbledore. "Also, do not speak Parseltongue in front of anyone, not even the other Slytherins. Doing so will only hinder your problem by making them think you want to be seen as the heir."

Dumbledore spoke to him for a couple more minutes about what not to do, and then Harry found himself opening the door to his headmaster's office.

Harry turned to look back at his headmaster when something he had been wondering formed itself into a question. And, as of reading his mind, Dumbledore said, "Yes, Harry?"

"Professor, who do you think _is_ the Heir of Slytherin?"

After a small pause, Dumbledore said, "Someone who shouldn't be in the school, but has managed to get in, and he would have done it very discreetly."

"Discreetly? What d'you mean? Professor, how did he–?"

"It's not something you have to worry about, Harry," Dumbledore said calmly. "Have a good day."

Harry nodded before closing the door.

The fact that word had spread so rapidly of Harry's being near Terry Boot's Petrified body was quite startling to him. By morning the next day, it seemed like everyone knew.

Wherever he went, he either got nasty stares or the cold shoulder. Students gathered to stare at him, students gathered to turn away from his stare, and students gathered to murmur and talk about him when they thought he wasn't around or listening.

As Harry stood in the Library, searching for a new book to read on potions, he heard his name in a conversation a few tables over. Inconspicuously, he went to look at a shelf that was closer the group.

The people talking were a couple of Hufflepuffs. He knew one was Hannah Abbott and was pretty sure the other two were Ernie Macmillan and Susan Bones.

"–but Potter?" Abbott asked. "Everyone knows that of all the Slytherins, he's the kindest. And his parents opposed You-Know-Who."

"So what?" said Macmillan haughtily. "That just means he's a lot more evil than his parents. Hardly anyone goes into a different House than their family."

"Evil, Ernie?" Abbott asked skeptically.

"Yes. Look what he did," said Macmillan, "to Justin and Creevey and Clearwater and now Boot. What do _you_ think, Hannah?"

"I don't know if I think Potter's evil," said Abbot. "He's twelve and a second year, just like us." Beside her, Bones nodded.

"Makes no difference," Macmillan said. "He can still be as evil and as foul as ever."

"If you think so."

"I _do_ think so."

Angry that they thought he was evil, Harry stepped forward and slammed his book shut. The three Hufflepuffs turned and saw him, their eyes widening at the sight of him. But without saying a word, Harry walked away.

Unfortunately, the students talking about him weren't just people he didn't get along with. Sometimes those students were his own friends.

Harry was eating dinner in the Great, talking with Blaise, when he decided to go to the loo, despite the rules. As he walked toward the toilet, he heard a familiar voice speaking faintly. He walked forward, keeping in the shadows.

"I can't believe the entire school thinks Harry's the Heir of Slytherin," said Draco to Crabbe and Goyle. "Are they all complete idiots?"

Crabbe and Goyle shrugged, but Draco went on, "He's not even a Pureblood. Why would they think it's him?"

Not wanting to hear more, Harry continued down the corridor to get away from what Draco was saying.

Upon walking into the Slytherin common room, Harry found a group of students at the notice board. They were talking excitedly, but for bad reasons. The loud chatter sounded angry and annoyed. Curious, he went toward the other people to see what was wrong.

When Harry got to the front he saw the notice, which said no student could leave the common room after six pm. It was for everyone's protection, but most of the Slytherins were bothered by it, especially the older students, who were able to stay out the latest. None of them wanted to be cooped up in the common room, not if they could be roaming the corridors, causing mayhem wherever they went.

But Harry just walked out of the group and went down stairs into the dormitory. He closed the door behind him, going immediately to his trunk to take out Riddle's diary.

Without the usual polite beginnings, Harry wrote,

Let me guess: all of Hogwarts believes you are the Heir of Slytherin.

"Correct. But I don't want them to think I am. I've done nothing. What would you do?"

You may have done nothing, but because of the few things that happened with you, they obviously think you are. If it were me, I would just keep the blame. It's really not hurting you except by reputation. No one's hurting you physically or emotionally, so what does it matter if they think you are?

"What does it matter? They think I'm the heir! And if they continue to, Dumbledore might be forced to expel me from the school by the Minister so it seems something is being done. I don't want that to happen! Hogwarts is my home!"

That's very true. I admit, I didn't think of that. You are best friends with a Malfoy, his family will probably take you in. And you told me you have been reading about a wide variety of subjects in the past months. You are very intelligent, Harry. You could continue your education on your own.

"I know I could, but it wouldn't be the same as being here at Hogwarts. All my friends are here. Besides, if I left I would have to start working, and I doubt there are many places that employ twelve-year-olds."

Again, good point. Just try not to do anything that would make the other students think you are the Heir of Slytherin. I think you know what I mean.

After reading nearly Saturday for the past couple of months, Harry needed a break. A few weeks after Boot had been Petrified, Dumbledore had called off all Quidditch matches and practices, not wanting to put the students in any more harm. So all he did was homework, read, talk with his friends, or write to Tom.

As Harry closed his book, he decided to go to Hagrid's, which is something he hadn't done in a while. He hoped Hagrid didn't feel abandoned. He had no idea how many times Ron and Hermione had visited him.

The only problem was he wasn't allowed to go anywhere alone, even though it was only four in the afternoon, so he dug in his trunk for his father's cloak, putting it on when no one was around. He missed the feel of being underneath it; the silky, airy fabric was comfortable and relaxing.

Harry opened the Entrance Hall doors and walked outside into the cold. He had put on his thick winter robe and cloak, knowing it was going to be freezing outside. The air was bitter, going right through the Invisibility Cloak, his winter robe, and his sweater. He could feel the iciness of winter on his skin and he hadn't been ready for the chill. His feet swamped through the uneven mounds of snow as he made his way to Hagrid's cabin.

He could see his breath trailing in front of him as he exhaled unevenly in the cold. He wanted to be in the warmth of the small house, so he knocked hastily.

"Hagrid!" Harry almost pleaded.

The door opened quickly. Harry practically ran into Hagrid's house without saying hello. But once he was inside, he immediately took off the Invisibility Cloak.

"Blimey, Harry! I thought it was yeh, but the can' just run in here," said Hagrid. "Yeh scared me."

"Sorry, Hagrid," Harry apologized. "It was just really cold outside."

"I'll make yeh some hot tea," said Hagrid. "Warm up near the fire."

As Hagrid put the kettle on the stove, he asked, "So how's school goin'?"

"How do you _think_ school's going?" Harry replied casually. "Everyone thinks I'm the Heir of Slytherin, but I'm not. I'm constantly getting stares, or people just turn away, and I also hear people talking about me everywhere I go."

"I heard yeh were found near that boy's Petrified body," said Hagrid, concerned.

"Yeah, that's true," said Harry. "Flitwick found me and brought me to Dumbledore's office. We talked and he told me he didn't think I was the heir, so that made me feel better."

"Professor Dumbledore has a way of doin' that, doesn' he?" said Hagrid, who brought over two steaming cups of tea. "But, Harry, what were yeh doin' near the boy's body? Yeh should've gone straight teh a teacher."

"I don't know. I was just…inspecting him," said Harry, who took a quick sip of tea. "I want to know what creature the monster is. I want to know what can make someone like that. As I was looking at Boot — he'd been crouched down, tying his shoe — I found that he wasn't looking at his untied shoe, but at a puddle of water that had been in front of him. That means he must've seen the reflection of the monster. I always thought the monster just Petrified them without them seeing it, but I've realized that they have to see it to be Petrified."

"Yeh found all that out on yer own?" asked Hagrid. "Yeh're very clever, Harry."

"I've been reading tons of books in the past months. On just about every subject," said Harry. "I'm doing really well in all my classes…except Potions though. Snape still hates me."

"Good fer yeh, Harry! I'm proud of yeh!" Hagrid had a large smile on his face.

"Thanks!" Harry replied cheerfully, a smile on his face. "I've been working loads."

"Hermione said she's also been–"

A knock at the door made both Harry and Hagrid jump involuntarily in their seats. "I'll get it," Harry offered, getting out of his warm, cushiony chair.

Voices outside told him it was more than one person. Harry opened the door to find two shivering Gryffindors. "H-Harry!" Ron stuttered from the bitterness around him. He and Hermione went inside quickly, taking off their cloaks and winter robes.

"Ron! Hermione!" exclaimed Hagrid. "Sit. I'll make yeh some tea."

"Hello, Harry," Hermione said as she sat.

"Hello," he said, taking his seat again next to Ron.

"How've you been, Hagrid?" Hermione asked politely.

"I've been all righ', Hermione," said Hagrid. "How 'bout yeh?"

"There's too much homework, if you ask me," said Ron, "but other than that I'm doing okay."

"I'm fine," said Hermione. "The workloads not _that_ much, Ron."

"Sure, maybe for you. I'm sure Harry'll agree with me on this."

"Actually, Harry's been doin' very well in class, aren' yeh, Harry?" asked Hagrid, bringing over two more cups of tea for Ron and Hermione.

"Yeah, I am," said Harry.

"Hermione, you'll like this: Harry's been readin' plenty," explained Hagrid. As he got up, he added, "I'm gonna make some muffins."

"Yeah, I know. I overheard Crabbe and Goyle in the hall, saying that you like to read. I'm impressed, Harry," she said with a smile. "What subjects have you read about?"

"All kinds, really," said Harry. "Books on spells, transfigurations, potions, and even subjects we haven't learned yet. I read a small book on astronomy." Hermione nodded, but beside him, Ron looked bored.

"I've read a fantastic book a month ago about wizard wars. I'll have to lend it to you later," said Hermione.

"Enough, let's stop the dull conversation on books," said Ron, scratching his forehead.

Harry took a large gulp of his warm tea before asking, "Are you worried about Slytherin's monster, Hermione?" He noticed Ron and Hagrid turn in his direction at the change in conversation.

She put her cup down, the tea within still steaming slightly. "Yeah, I am. I'm not going to deny it. Whenever I walk the corridors, I try to always have someone with me. Just in case." She then adjusted the collar of her shirt and her sweater vest, looking away.

"One time, she made me stand outside the girls toilet," said Ron, humor in his voice.

"You know you'd make me so the same if this monster were after Purebloods," Hermione said somewhat snappily.

"Probably," Ron murmured under his breath.

As Harry held the sides of the cup, he looked into it, staring at the yellowish-orange liquid within. His mind wandered for a moment about what the other Houses thought of him. Did they truly believe he was the Heir of Slytherin, or did they just decide to make him the scapegoat because of the couple of events that had happened?

"Harry, you all right?" Ron asked, turning to look at him.

"Do the other Gryffindors think I'm the heir?" Harry saw Ron and Hermione glance at each other quickly. What did the look mean? Was something wrong? Did they believe it was he? Or were they just annoyed at Harry's question?

"Well, you see…they–" Hermione started.

"Hermione, just tell me," said Harry.

"Yes, they do," she said. "Look. At first, everyone thought it was Malfoy because he hates Muggle-borns so much, but after you spoke Parseltongue and were found near Boot's body, they think it's you. Honestly, Harry, what would _you_ think?"

"But you two don't think it's me, do you?" Harry asked, slightly worried.

"Of course not, mate!" Ron said. "We know you'd never want to hurt anyone. And you obviously don't hate Muggle-borns, you're talking to Hermione now."

Harry nodded, reassured. He needed someone to be on his side.

"Who wants teh try one of me warm muffins?" Hagrid asked, carrying a tray of half a dozen muffins, his hands covered by cooking mitts.

The three of them looked at each other, knowing that Hagrid's cooking usually came out stiff, but each took a muffin anyway, thanking Hagrid. For a good five minutes, they all chomped difficultly into the muffins, but did eventually finish them. That's when something began squirming in one of the pockets of Ron's robes, which were lying on a nearby chair. Ron reached in and carefully took out Scabbers, placing him on the table.

The fat rat came toward Harry, who managed to break off a piece of one of the whole muffins to give to Scabbers. The small animal ate it feverishly, holding the crumb with his little pink fingers.

The four of them, as they sat warmly around the table near the fire, talked for quite a while, laughing occasionally when Ron made a joke. While he sat in the comfortable cabin, Harry's worries disappeared; he enjoyed being in that kind of atmosphere with Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid.

The conversation stopped when it was close to dinner, so they had to be back inside the castle. Harry could also hear Ron's stomach growling in hunger. "Let's get something to eat," said Ron. "I'm starving."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood up, each grabbing their cloaks and winter robes to put over their Hogwarts clothes. Harry stuffed his Invisibility Cloak in his robe pocket, letting some of it hang out.

"Are you coming, Hagrid?" Hermione asked.

"No, I think I'll make me own dinner tonight," Hagrid replied. "I'd just like a quick word with Harry."

"Thanks for the tea and muffin, Hagrid. Bye," said Ron. Hermione said, "Bye, Hagrid. See you in the Great Hall, Harry."

"Bye, yeh two."

Harry gave them a small wave. When the door closed, he said, "What is it, Hagrid?"

"I meant the tell yeh earlier, but Ron an' Hermione showed up. And I don' want Hermione teh know," said Hagrid. "I want yeh teh watch Hermione as much as possible. I don' know what other students are Muggle-born, but I want yeh teh watch her. Okay?"

"Okay, I'll do it. I don't want anything to happen to her either," said Harry.

"But be…err…inconspicuous. If the other students see yeh, they might think yer trailin' her fer different reasons," Hagrid instructed.

Harry nodded. "Will do. Have a good evening, Hagrid."

"Yeh too, Harry."

Before baring the cold, Harry closed his winter robe and turned up the collar of his cloak. He stepped out, closing the door to Hagrid's cabin quickly. The cold wind came at him suddenly, and he wished he were still inside next to the warm, blazing fire.

**A/N: **My first year of college is beginning the 6th of September, and I know that the amount of work I recieve will be monstrous, to say the least! So if chapters don't come up as quickly, I'm sorry.

* * *

**Preview of Chapter 32–Snakes of Ill Humor:  
**Harry is somehow locked out of the castle, and later someone's suspended for setting five snakes loose in the Great Hall during dinner…  



	32. Snakes of Ill Humor

"If you're not confused, you're not paying attention."

-Tom Peters

**32**

**Snakes of Ill Humor**

Before baring the cold, Harry closed his winter robe and turned up the collar of his cloak. He stepped out, closing the door to Hagrid's cabin quickly. The cold wind came at him suddenly, and he wished he were still inside next to the warm, blazing fire.

Being outside was almost unbearable, so he practically ran to the entrance doors of Hogwarts. Harry took his hands out from under the cloak and reached up to the large handle. He would have been inside the castle in under a minute, but, unfortunately, the handle wouldn't budge. He yanked at it with all his might, thinking that it had gotten frozen from the frost, but it just wouldn't move.

Harry went to the nearest window. "Hello?" Harry said loudly. But then the wind picked up and he could feel it though the layers he was wearing. "HELLO? IS ANYONE THERE?"

He waited for a moment, listening for the sound of footsteps or for a response. Nothing. He banged on the window. He saw the faint outline of a group of students, so he pounded even harder against the window, but they just kept walking, noticing nothing.

After another moment, Harry went back to the door, taking out his wand. "_Alohomora!_" Still nothing happened. There was no click of the lock, like he had expected.

Knowing this spell had come in handy at the end of last year, he raised his wand at one of the nearby windows and shouted, "_Diffindo!_" But nothing happened. He had been expecting a loud, if not intrusive, breaking of glass.

When Harry could think of nothing else to do, he ran back to Hagrid's cabin, knowing he would help him or let him sleep the night in his little home. Still in the freezing cold, he knocked somewhat brutally on Hagrid's front door. "Hagrid! Please open the door!"

There was no response from him. Maybe he was just cooking and couldn't hear Harry. So, Harry went around the cabin to look through a window. He could see Hagrid sitting casually by the fire with a bowl of soup, his dog, Fang, laying in front of him on the rug.

Harry knocked on the window loudly, but Hagrid didn't turn. It was as if he couldn't hear him. It was as if no one could hear him. What was going on? Why couldn't he be heard? Why couldn't he get inside?

Deep down, he knew something was wrong.

Harry walked away from Hagrid's cabin, shivering almost violently. His nose was starting to run, so he wiped it with the sleeve of his robe. Since there was nothing else he could think to do, he went to the large oak tree near the Black Lake and sat down amidst its large roots. He took his Invisibility Cloak from his pocket, putting it around him for more warmth. With his wand, after collecting some stray twigs and branches, he made a small bonfire. It was close enough to keep him warm through the night, but far enough so he wouldn't light the tree on fire.

As Harry sat there, he stared at the Black Lake in the January evening darkness. There was no moon up yet, the sun was down, and no ripples stirred, so the lake looked like a black abyss.

For a long while, he watched the lake before turning his attention to the Forbidden Forest, hoping nothing would come out and eat him in the middle of the night. But after that there was nothing else to do, so, despite the fact he was still shivering and he could barely feel his ears, Harry fell asleep, wishing he knew how to conjure a pillow.

Suddenly, Harry felt someone trying to wake him. A hand was on his shoulder, pushing him slightly. "Potter, what on earth are you doing?" a voice asked.

His eyes opened, realizing it was now early morning. The sky was a gray-white and light flurries were falling gently from the sky. The bonfire near him had gone out. Harry tried to get up into a sitting position, but found he could hardly move since he was so cold. He hoped he hadn't gotten frostbite in the middle of the night.

Harry tried to speak to Professor McGonagall, who was kneeling beside him, but his throat was so parched that no words came out. "It's all right, Potter. I'm going to bring you to the Hospital Wing. I don't know why you stayed out here in the cold, but once you get a healing potion, I want an answer."

McGonagall conjured a stretcher beneath Harry. "_Mobilicorpus!_" In just five minutes, he was being lifted onto a warm, comfortable bed. "Poppy, Potter needs a potion to warm him," she said to Madam Pomfrey, who nodded and walked away quickly. To Harry, McGonagall said, "I'll be right back. This is something your Head of House should know about and take care of."

Laying his head on the fluffy pillow, Harry exhaled audibly. Snape was coming…fantastic.

Madam Pomfrey came over, holding a small vial. "Take this. It will make you feel better." Harry took the small bottle and quickly gulped down the liquid, which actually didn't taste as horrible as it looked.

Minutes later, the greasy-haired, black-robed man came walking through the door followed by McGonagall.

"What happened that you decided to sleep outside, Potter?" Snape asked.

"I couldn't get into the castle, Professor," Harry explained. "I was coming back from taking a little walk and the door wouldn't budge, so I tried yelling, but no one could hear me. I went to Hagrid, but he couldn't seem to hear me at his door either. What was I supposed to do?"

"The front doors are not the only way of getting into the school, Potter. There are numerous entrances," said Snape. "And, if those don't work, you could have used various spells to get the attention of someone within the castle."

"Next time you get locked out of the school, Potter, try to find a way to get inside. Your alternative is not sleeping in the freezing cold," said McGonagall. "Good day." She then left the Hospital Wing, shaking her head slightly as she did.

"When can I leave?" Harry asked of Madam Pomfrey.

"You just arrived, Mr. Potter," she said. "You won't be leaving for at least a few hours. It takes that long for the potion to fully warm you. So get comfortable."

After that was said, Snape decided it was time to leave, which Harry was pleased about. Harry then readjusted his glasses and then the blanket laying over him, so he was more at ease.

Days later, Harry was awoken in the middle of the night by a big-eyed, large-eared, pillow-wearing house-elf. Dobby crept up to Harry's bed, but since the floor creaked, Harry awoken to a great shock since Dobby had been staring right at him. Harry almost screamed aloud.

"What the hell are you doing here, Dobby?" Harry whispered, somewhat frustrated.

"Dobby was checking if Harry Potter was all right. Dobby did not want his goblet to get Harry Potter too sick. Dobby did not want Harry Potter being locked out to get him sick again," said Dobby, mostly to himself. "But it would be best for Harry Potter to not be in the castle. Anyplace is better than here."

Harry sat up quickly, grabbing his glasses from his bedside table.

"It was you!" Harry muttered at Dobby angrily.

"Do not be angry, Harry Potter, sir," Dobby said, backing away from the bed. "Dobby did it to help Harry Potter. Dobby did not want Harry Potter to be at Hogwarts when things start to worsen."

"I can't believe it! You made me sick with your stupid goblet! And you locked me out of the castle! I stayed out in the freezing cold _all night!_" Harry exclaimed, trying to be as quiet as possible to not wake anyone.

"That is why Dobby came tonight," said the house-elf. "Dobby needed to make sure Harry Potter was no longer sick. If Harry Potter was sick at the castle, Harry Potter could be more vulnerable. Dobby has to make sure Harry Potter is safe. Harry Potter must–"

"Dobby, I'm not leaving the castle!" said Harry. "No one can stop the Heir of Slytherin. He's relentless. Besides, what does it matter if I'm here or not? The heir only attacks Muggle-borns anyway."

"Harry Potter should not be at Hogwarts any longer, even if the heir only attacks Muggle-borns. Bad things have happened and will continue to–"

"Harry, who're you talking to?" Draco asked, groggily, from the bed across from him. It was a good thing Harry had his curtains drawn because Draco would have seen Dobby standing at Harry's bedside.

"No one. Must have been talking in my sleep," said Harry as he looked at Dobby. He saw that the house-elf's hands were burnt and red. Harry then whispered to Dobby, "You should leave."

Dobby nodded before saying, "Stay safe, Harry Potter." Then there was a small "_pop_" as the pillow-cased creature disappeared on the spot.

February had dawned upon them, bringing even more snow and more chilly days. But since Harry remained inside most of the time, the snow and cold didn't bother him so much. After being locked out once, he decided he didn't want it to happen again, so he had cooped himself up in either the common room or Room of Buried Secrets.

He and Draco had learned a lot on how to become Animagi. They knew so much more about the process of changing, what to do after one has changed, how to change back, and how to adjust to the changes. But the two of them were still exceedingly far from the actual transformations.

As they continued to read, their intelligence level increased. Harry and Draco had spent so many hours in the Room of Buried Secrets it was like their second dormitory. The two of them had even fallen asleep there a couple of times amidst reading.

When Harry did manage to sleep in his dormitory, he always wrote to Tom before actually going to sleep. Most of their conversations were about random things, but they were becoming such great friends. He talked to Tom almost every day, and when he got into arguments with Draco, he would talk to Tom for hours. Tom knew him very well, in some aspects even better than Draco.

But conversations with Tom wasn't the most important aspect of what was happening at Hogwarts. No other Muggle-born had been Petrified in presently over three weeks, but it was too soon for the students and staff to fully relax. Everyone was on edge that someone would still get hurt.

But it would take a while for everyone's nerves to calm after an incident in the Great Hall. It was a Friday evening in early February, and as numerous students filed into the Great Hall, it seemed like a normal evening for dinner and chat.

But they were wrong.

Harry had come into the Great Hall with Blaise since Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle said they had to finish work before going in. A couple minutes later, after Harry had piled some delicious-looking food onto his plate, his three friends came into the room. Draco had a small smirk on his face, but Harry barely noticed.

Twenty minutes into dinner, it happened.

The students nearest to the Great Hall doors began screaming and running toward the Head Table or stood on the bench. The students further into the room couldn't see what the commotion was, so they, too, stood on the benches, hoping to get a glance. That's exactly what Harry did, wanting to see why everyone was screaming.

"Calm down!" attempted Professor McGonagall, who stood up behind the Staff Table. But she couldn't see what was really going on.

Harry's eyes widened when he saw five large, dark green snakes slithering near the entrance of the Great Hall.

"What's going on?" McGonagall asked, getting annoyed.

"Snakes!" Harry yelled, looking at Dumbledore. Some of the teachers gasped, as McGonagall, Dumbledore, Snape, and Parish brandished their wands.

"Move to the back of the room! NOW!" yelled Snape, his wand in front of him.

As Harry moved down the bench with the other Slytherins, he caught the look on Draco's face. Was he smiling? Was he actually smiling? It didn't make sense, but he didn't have time to think about it.

One of the large snakes was coming toward the Slytherin table. Pansy Parkinson was standing on the bench right near it, practically shaking in fear. Harry took out his wand. It looked like it was about to lunge at her. Remembering what Parish had said at the Dueling Club, he yelled, "_Evanesco!_" The snake disappeared on the spot. Parkinson, still scared, managed to give him a small smile.

Harry looked at the rest of the hall. A snake was actually on the Hufflepuff table, slithering between plates and knocking over goblets. The students there were yelling as they hastily ran to the teachers.

Looking around the room, he saw that Ron, Hermione, and Longbottom were standing on the bench of the Gryffindor table, their wands out as well. He remembered what Hagrid had told, and knew he had to keep an eye on Hermione.

Two shouts of spells being cast told them that two more were now gone. McGonagall and Parish had each gotten rid of one. There were two left.

Dumbledore was standing in front of the Head Table with a couple of students trembling in fear behind him. He had his long wand out before him. His eyes darted quickly around the Great Hall.

Out of nowhere, the students standing behind the headmaster screamed, moving away quickly. Harry turned to look at what was going on. A snake was on the table, about to lunge at Dumbledore. Just as it did and was in mid-air, Dumbledore said, "_Evanesco!_"

Only one left.

Harry got down from the bench, still holding his wand, even though he was near the middle of the table. He brought himself closer to the wall. Snape was on the other side of the Slytherin table, his wand out and positioned.

"Stop screaming! Calm down, everyone!" called McGonagall. But no one was really paying attention. Most of the students knew there was still a snake on the loose and none of them wanted to be bitten or worse.

Harry turned to the back of the room, seeing almost all the students clumped there. There was a group of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students packed into a corner near the doors. He was going to continue looking around the room, but he suddenly heard a low hissing in front of him.

Turning slowly, he saw one of the large snakes standing very close to him…too close. There was no one near him, so he stared at the snake and began to speak. "_Leave! You don't belong here!_"

The snake stared back with bright red eyes. "_I belong nowhere. I was conjured to bring fear._"

"_You've already created fear. Now leave!_" hissed Harry.

The snake lowered its head and then turned away from him, heading for the door. Harry looked away from it to see Snape watching him, his eyes narrowed. His professor pointed his wand at the snake. "_Evanesco!_" Snape's gaze remained on Harry, who stared back, but then he turned away from Snape's harsh stare.

"Everyone return to your common rooms!" called Dumbledore sternly. "When I find out who did this, they will be punished severly."

When the Slytherins were finally inside the common room, the commotion really began. Some of the girls were still tearing from being so afraid. No one would stop talking about what had happened.

"I can't believe it!" said Pucey. "Five snakes in the Great Hall!"

"I was so scared!" a third girl said. "I thought they were going to come after me!" A bunch of more girls nodded, comforting each other.

As the talk continued, the stories only became more wild and unreal.

"Someone must have collected them from the Forbidden Forest and brought them in when no one was looking!" someone supposed.

"No, I heard that it had actually been a teacher that had conjured them to scare us," a fifth year boy said loudly. "I heard Dumbledore wants us all to be kept alert about the Heir of Slytherin."

As Harry listened, he sat in one of the armchairs near the fire. Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle were sitting in chairs and couches next to him. He noticed that Draco still had a smile upon his face. "What are you so happy about?" he inquired.

Draco glanced around to make sure no one was listening before leaning toward Harry to answer. "I was the one who let the snakes loose."

"What!" Harry said loudly. He stood up from his chair. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Calm down, Harry," Draco said, his eyes darting around the room. "It was just a joke. Crabbe, Goyle, and I conjured the snakes. I just wanted them to scare some people."

"Well, it's not very funny! Someone could've gotten hurt!"

"Shut up, Harry, you're–"

The sliding, stone door opened to reveal Snape. "Flint." Harry's Quidditch captain went to Snape, who whispered to him for a minute before handing him a long piece of parchment. Snape then left quickly.

"Listen! SHUT UP!" said Flint. "Snape gave me a list of people that must be sent to the Great Hall for examination. Apparatently, the people on this list are the ones that the Staff thinks might've conjured the snakes. Two will go at a time. If you're not the person, you'll be sent back and I'll call the next two. Okay?" He looked at the parchment. "Bletchley and Potter, you're up!"

Harry gave Draco a glare before leaving the common room to make his way to the Great Hall. When he was standing in the doorway, he saw that the House tables had been removed. The four Head of Houses stood apart from each other near the Staff Table. Other students were being examined as well, so he didn't feel as thought it were just a way to get to him.

"Potter, come on," called Snape. "I'm not going to wait here all day."

When Harry was standing before his Head of House, Snape said, "Take out your wand." That's when he noticed that Snape had his wand out at his side. Snape pointed his wand at Harry's as he said, "_Prior Incantato!_"

From the tip of Harry's wand came the image of a snake being reduced to nothing. Snape lowered his wand, and Harry followed suit. "You many leave," Snape said quietly.

Harry had fallen asleep in an armchair in the common room. He and Draco had been sitting there for a long time. He knew Draco was waiting for his name to called. But his eyes had felt heavy since he had been too tired to stay awake any longer.

He didn't know how long he had been asleep, but he faintly heard the entrance to common room open. He could hear murmurs around the room. He moved in his seat to get comfortable. The murmurings moved closer to him.

"Did you hear?" some older boy's deep voice said in the common room. "Malfoy's been suspended!"

"I've never heard of someone being suspended before," another boy said.

"It turns out he was the one who had conjured the snakes," the first boy said.

"I was there," said an older girl. "The echo from his wand was five snakes appearing. Dumbledore was furious! He's been suspended for two weeks!"

All the words finally registered with Harry that his best friend had been suspended from Hogwarts; he practically jumped up from his chair. "Where's Draco?" he asked the older students.

"He's been suspended. He'll probably come in to get his things," said the older girl, who had thick, light brown hair.

And she was right. Just then, the wall slid away for Draco and Snape to come in. Harry went up to him. "You've heard?" Draco asked grimly. Harry nodded. "My father's going to be so angry."

"Well, now you have learned your lesson, Malfoy," said Snape.

"How's he getting to Malfoy Manor?" Hary asked.

"Floo Powder," Snape said. "I'll be taking you myself, Malfoy."

"See you later, Harry," Draco said quietly, looking at him with anxious eyes.

"Bye, Draco…err…good luck."

**A/N:** Ooo! Draco was suspended for two weeks! He deserves it for letting those snakes scare everyone, don't you think? Anyway, the next chapter jumps a considerable amount of time. In the next chapter we'll be entering the month of May. I tend to do that, don't I? Anyway, stay tuned!

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**Preview of Chapter 33–The Hate Within:** After seeing another memory of Tom's, Harry has another blackout; and he observes another secret in the Room of Buried Secrets… 


	33. The Hate Within

A/N: The words in the letter that are marked with the two dashes on either side, like -word-, are supposed to look like they've been crossed out.

_"Fear of something is at the root of hate for others, and hate within will eventually destroy the hater."_

_-Carver _

**33**

**The Hate Within**

All snow had melted, letting the beautiful flowers and grass take its place. The May sky looked pristine as a clear blue with hardly any clouds, and the sun always shone. Robes were only worn inside the castle, but outside, they were laid beside bags and books as students worked beneath large trees in collared shirts with their sleeves rolled up.

The students and staff had reason to be so happy. Besides the wonderful weather, no one had been Petrified in months. Not since Terry Boot back in January. People could relax, finally feeling the Heir of Slytherin had stopped its monster from hurting anyone else.

What made Harry very pleased was the fact that those odd blackouts had stopped happening. He wasn't fearful of waking up in a random place with blood on his hands. And he had also stopped hearing the murderous voice that no one could hear. He was able to relax.

During the Easter break, Harry had chosen his subjects for next year, deciding to take Care of Magical Creatures and Divination along with the classes he was already taking. He was happy knowing that Draco and Blaise would be taking the classes with him.

Presently, Harry put his Animagus book on the couch upside-down. He needed to rest his eyes and also needed something to eat. Draco, earlier that Friday evening, had said he didn't feel like reading, so Harry had gone up to the Room of Buried Secrets alone. But he didn't care. He had gotten a lot done.

As he walked down the steps to enter the Entrance Hall, he saw Fred and George Weasley off to the side, talking quietly to themselves. Harry assumed they were thinking up another prank to pull on someone. He continued to look their way, and saw they were holding something between them.

Curious, Harry stopped and walked closer, trying to see what it was they were holding. He didn't want to be seen, so he crept in the shadows.

Harry squinted his eyes, hoping it would help to see. It didn't. What did was the fact that George moved a little to the right, which allowed him to see an old piece of parchment.

Disappointed to find that they were writing a letter on really old parchment, Harry walked into the Great Hall.

--------------------------

On Monday, Harry found himself walking with Draco between classes. They were moving along the second floor from Defense Against the Dark Arts down toward the Greenhouses.

"The Weasley twins got caught by Filch yesterday. They were trying to set off some Dungbombs near the Great Hall," said Draco. He laughed to himself. "Got detention for a week."

"How do they get all those Dungbombs?" Harry asked curiously. He turned to look at his friend.

"There are places that sell them," said Draco. "There's a store in Diagon Alley, there are a couple in Knockturn Alley, and I think there's one in Hogsmeade. That's the village near Hogwarts."

When Harry turned back, Filch, who was carrying Mrs. Norris, was standing in front of them. Both Harry and Draco, looking at the man curiously, stopped in their tracks. "What have we got here?" Filch asked with his usual bitter tone, his voice raspy like always. "Conversing about Dungbombs, are we?"

"We were just talking," said Harry.

Filch stared at him with gray, beady eyes. "Talking about Dungbombs? Where are you planning on throwing them? When are you planning on throwing them?"

"We aren't planning on throwing them anywhere," Harry said.

"We don't even have any to throw!" said Draco, slightly worried. Ever since he had been suspended, he had been on edge that something else would occur and he would be sent home to his irritated father.

"Rubbish!" Filch exclaimed. He dropped Mrs. Norris, and then grabbed the collars of Harry and Draco. "Detention!"

"You can't give us detention! We haven't done anything wrong!" Harry called out.

"You were planning on using Dungbombs," said Filch as he pulled them down the corridor.

"No, we weren't!" Harry and Draco cried in unison, but Filch continued to hold onto their collars.

"We'll go to Dumbledore!" Harry said, his neck beginning to hurt.

For a thin-looking man, Filch had a lot of strength. He held the two boys by their collars; their feet were just touching the ground. Filch released his grip; both of Harry's feet were now fully on the ground.

Filch looked at them closely with narrowed eyes that seemed a bit manic at the moment. He picked up Mrs. Norris, who was staring with yellow eyes, and said, "I don't want to hear anything about Dungbombs for now on." Harry and Draco nodded.

They walked away, slowly at first, later gaining speed. Harry turned to see Filch whispering to Mrs. Norris as he pet her. Then he dropped her to the ground, and she walked in the direction Harry was going.

_Great. Now Filch is having his evil cat follow me._

Harry turned the corner with Draco, and Mrs. Norris was out of sight. Soon, they were outside in the Greenhouses. Professor Sprout took ten points from Slytherin for their tardiness, unfortunately. But he was pleased to be away from Mrs. Norris.

-----------------------

As Harry sat at a table in the common room, he finished his homework before dinner. Pleased with himself for finishing so early, he decided to go down to his dormitory to write to Tom. He knew no one would notice since most of the other Slytherins were either doing homework, playing Chess, or deciding when to pull their next prank on some unsuspecting students from other Houses.

After putting away his books, Harry took out the diary. He jumped onto his bed and sat down comfortably before dipping his quill in his inkbottle.

_"Hello, Tom."_

_Good evening, Harry. Was your day fit for a Slytherin?_

"_Not exactly. Draco and I were wrongly accused of planning to use Dungbombs. Not very fitting, if you ask me."_

_I've been wrongly accused before, just like you have been._

_"Really? What did the professors think you did?"_

_Not the professors, Harry, but the people at Stonewall Orphanage._ _Let me show you…_

Harry stared at the words, which began to fade slowly.

Suddenly, the pages flipped rapidly. It stopped on the page that said _July 24th_, which turned into a little black box. The box grew rapidly. Harry leaned forward, knowing he was going to fall through. For a few seconds, Harry felt like he was falling through nothing, but then his feet hit solid ground.

The room Harry found himself in was a small, cramped Dining Hall. A few wooden tables filled most of the space. Children aging from five to seventeen were sitting, eating, and talking loudly. So many of the children were speaking that it sounded much like a buzzing.

Sitting before him was a young boy nine or ten years old. Harry knew it was a young Tom Riddle, just a few years shy of coming to Hogwarts. His dark hair was short and slightly wavy, and his face showed no emotion at the moment. He was wearing a plain, white button down shirt, and gray trousers.

Sitting a couple seats down was another boy with light hair and freckles, who looked to be about the same age. The seats between were filled by no one.

Walking toward the table were four older boys, who were about fourteen. Harry could tell they were walking toward Tom. He watched closely.

"Look, mates: It's Freak Boy," said the one closest to the table. He looked like he was the leader of the group. He had dark hair, a slender body, and defined face, which held mockery at the moment. The boys behind him laughed.

"Stop calling me Freak Boy, Remington," Tom said as he glared at the others. People eating at the table stopped to watch what was unfolding.

"Oh, look! Is Freak Boy getting upset?" said Remington as he laughed. The three others behind him laughed even more. "Why don't you run off and play by yourself?" he asked as he leaned in closer to Tom.

Remington continued, saying the next part so that only Tom, his cronies, and Harry could hear, "Better yet, why don't you run off and play _with_ yourself?"

The three boys behind Remington burst into fits of laughter. One of the boys was grabbing his stomach. Tom stood up, his face red in anger. Remington was laughing so hard, he didn't see the young boy come toward him.

"Leave. Me. _Alone!_" Tom exclaimed softly, collected in his manner but highly livid. The three empty glasses on the table shattered, hitting Remington, his three cronies, and the boy sitting a couple of seats away.

They all screamed so loudly it sounded like someone had just been brutally murdered. The shards of glass hit Remington and his friends in their arms and in the chest, but the other boy had been hit in the face. He was bleeding profusely as he cried out deafeningly.

Quickly, a chubby woman ran over. "What happened here?"

Remington was holding his right arm in pain as he said, "Riddle broke the glass."

The woman gave Tom an odd look as she said, "You did this?" But she didn't wait for an answer. Another woman, who was younger, thinner, and taller, came over. "Take Riddle to my office. I have to take these boys to the Nurse," the older woman said. The younger woman nodded.

The older woman helped the still crying boy, who had some blood running down his face from the glass, out of his seat and out of the room. Remington and the others followed, but not before saying under his breathe to Tom, "Freak Boy."

Remington glared at young Tom as he walked away. Tom glared right back, but Harry could have sworn he saw a flicker of a smirk as Tom looked at Remington's wounds…

Harry felt himself being pulled away. He was now sitting back on his bed.

Tom wrote, _I was accused of hurting those other boys. How was I to know at the time that I was a wizard, and that it had in fact been me?_

_"You couldn't know. Not until you got your letter from Hogwarts."_ The words faded and Harry then wrote, _"Were the other boys all right though?"_

_They were fine. The boy sitting near me had scars all over his face after that. He never talked to me again. Not that he talked to me before that though._

_"Did Remington and his friends bully you all the time?"_

_Indeed, they did. They paid dearly in the end, of course._ The words disappeared before Riddle continued, _But that doesn't matter now. There's something I would like you—_

But Harry never finished reading what Riddle wrote. The dormitory door opened. Harry closed the diary. Inside walked Blaise. "We were all wondering where you were," he said.

"Just doing a bit of work," Harry replied unemotionally.

"Alright then," said Blaise, giving Harry a curious look, as he exited and closed the door.

Harry opened the diary to the same page, but the words had already faded away. He dipped his quill in the ink, ready to write, but the words appeared again.

_There's something I would like you to do for me…_

_Walk…_he walked up the steps slowly…he faintly heard a familiar voice call him…_keep going…_still light…he was outside…he slightly recognized a small house…_go towards them…_he heard them…_pick it up…_he grabbed the neck tightly…_get it from the ground…_he took a rock…_do it now…_blood on the floor…_again…_he dropped the limp body…blood on his hands…

Harry blinked numerous times before realizing he had blacked out again. Fear rose in him. Again he had been talking to Tom when he had blacked out. As he looked at his bloody hands, the idea came into his head that Tom was making him black out. But why would Tom do that to him? They were friends.

But then another idea occurred to him. Maybe he truly was the Heir of Slytherin. Maybe he had just never known it. Maybe whenever he blacked out he had hurt another student. But he knew that he hadn't blacked out every time a student had been Petrified. Nothing made sense to him. And he didn't know what to believe.

Still worried as his heart pounded in his chest, he ran to the edge of the Black Lake, dipping his hands into the cold water to wash off any trace of blood.

When Harry was satisfied that nothing was left, he walked toward the castle. Loud voices were emanating from the Great Hall, so he knew the other students were eating dinner. But he didn't want to go in. If he was the heir, he might end up hurting someone. And he didn't want to write to Tom, concerned it might be him, so instead he ran up the steps and went into the Room of Buried Secrets.

After closing the little, wooden door, he just stopped where he stood, breathing loudly and quickly.

Was he doing all those things? Was he the one killing off the roosters and petrifying the other students? Was he controlling the monster? Was he _really_ the Heir of Slytherin?

Harry went over to a red couch and sat down, slumping slightly, so he could stare at the candles that hung in the air. It was so peaceful, but he wasn't quite at ease.

Floating among the white candles, innocently, was the black one. It was like that because of him…he had seen Mr. Malfoy's secret. Still staring at the candles, Harry stood up. He reached for his wand and took it out, pointing it now at a candle that was a few candles away from the black one.

"_Accio candle!_"

The candle raced toward him. He extended his left arm. A second after catching it, he—

With the way the room was, Harry could have sworn he had seen it like this before. And then he realized he had. It was exactly how it had been in Lucius Malfoy's secret. The couches were arranged in exactly the same way. It was the same time, but just a different secret.

The only difference now was the fact that there was a boy of twelve huddled in the far right corner of the room. From the center of the room, Harry could see that the boy had black hair that fell messily into his eyes. His body was thin and pale, and Harry could just make out tears cascading from the boy's eyes since his head was down against his knees. The boy's arms were wrapped tightly around his legs.

Harry walked closer to see the boy was wearing a thick winter cloak; a green and gray scarf was sprawled on the floor in front of him. The boy was muttering something angrily under his breath. Harry couldn't hear the exact words but then the boy's voice grew louder.

"I hate him! I hate him!" exclaimed the boy, whose face was hidden from view.

Harry, who had been inching forward, stopped suddenly at hearing the boy's outburst.

The boy suddenly stood up, his chest heaving dramatically. The boy was looking intently at the floor, but Harry could now see his wet, tear-stained face: it was a young Severus Snape.

Young Snape began to pace back and forth very quickly, his hands first at his sides and then in his trouser pockets. It continued for a good couple of minutes.

Harry stared, rooted to the spot. It was odd seeing the teacher he hated most as a twelve-year-old – the same age as Harry – as he paced with a mixture of anger and sadness. Young Snape muttered something under his breath, but then said loudly, "I can't believe he would write that! I hate my father! I hate him!"

Young Snape then stopped pacing and fell to his knees, tears falling rapidly from his eyes. "What did I do? What did I do to deserve this?"

Harry couldn't believe the person before him was Professor Snape; the cold, cruel man. The boy before him was crying and looked helpless – very unlike Snape.

Harry's eyes darted to something he hadn't noticed before. Lying on the ground next to Snape's scarf was a piece of lined Muggle paper that had creases in it from having been folded. After looking at young Snape, who had his hands covering his face, Harry went over to the corner to get the paper.

He reached down to pick it up, but his right hand seemed to go right through it. Harry should've realized he couldn't pick it up since it was in another time and wouldn't be able to alter anything. So instead he bent down to look at the paper.

Sprawled all over it was unorganized, fat handwriting. In the corner was the date: 1/9/71.

_Severus,_

_I'm -__pleased- __sad you aren't here, whether on your twelfth birthday or otherwise. You -__not-_ _being here means I can finally breathe. Your presence is -__suffocating-_ _welcomed and I can _-_never-_ _do what I crave and require. You, my son, are always doing things you're -__not-_ _supposed to and it seems I'm constantly _-_punishing_- _thinking about you. Now, I can finally be _-_free of_- _happy for a _-_godforsaken_- _lovely son for ten whole months. Your mother told me to wish you a happy birthday, but I_ _-don't_- _think I can do that for a son who is a _-_freak_- _responsible and a _-_dis_-_respectful, little _-_shit_- _man like yourself._

_Your father_

Scribbled on a separate, smaller piece of parchment was a short message in soft handwriting: _Happy birthday, Severus. I hope you have a pleasant day. Love, Mum._

The crossing-outs had, obviously, been done by Snape's mother, who must have inspected what her husband had written. She hadn't done a good enough job of cleaning up the message, though it looked like she tried, because the bitter and hurtful words were still clearly visible.

p Harry turned away from the paper, his right hand clamped over his mouth. How could a father write that to his son? How could he be so cruel/p

Young Snape let out a long sob behind Harry, who got up and went closer to the other boy. Harry bent down to look at young Snape. His eyes were red from crying and his pale face was pink near his cheeks and nose.

Harry couldn't believe it, but he actually felt bad for the boy, despite who he was. But he knew the person before him wasn't the Snape of his time. Obviously, Snape had changed from the time of his twelfth birthday to present time; changed for the worse so it seemed.

"I hate him," said young Snape with more sadness than anger. There were a few seconds of silence before young Snape burst out saying, "I'll kill him!"

Snape stood up, wiping the tears away from under his eyes with the sleeve of his robes. "That's what I'll do. I'll kill him! He can't do anything anyway!" He let out a laugh that implied he was really ready to kill his father. It was a dark, scarily deep laugh.

Young Snape turned around and picked up his scarf, throwing it harshly around his neck. He picked up the paper roughly and ripped it down the middle, and then again and again. He dropped the pieces to the floor. After taking out his wand, he muttered, "_Incendio!_

The little pieces of lined paper caught fire. Each piece burned with Snape's malice, shriveling slowly and turning to ash. Snape watched, wand at his side. The orange glow of the fire reflected in Snape's dark eyes.

Harry watched as the pieces burned away into nothing.

When all the pieces were done and gone, Snape put his wand away and walked toward the door. He opened the door and just before he was about to walk through, stopped. He turned to stare at the place where his letter had burned.

"I'll kill him," young Snape said finally before slamming the door.

Harry was finally brought back into present time. The candle turned black as he held it in his hand and as he released it, it flew back to its usual place.

**A/N:** Please tell me what you thought of this chapter! I would like to know what you thought of Tom and Snape's memories! Thanks!

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****The Mayhem of Harry:**

Harry doesn't know whether to believe he's the heir, whether he's going insane, or whether it's Tom making him blackout…


	34. The Mayhem of Harry

"Oh, Potter, you rotter, oh what have you done, you're killing off students, you think it's good fun."

-Peeves, _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_

**34**

**The Mayhem of Harry**

Harry walked around the edge of the Black Lake, staring absentmindedly at the soft but dark waves. All he could think about now was the fact that he might be the Heir of Slytherin. But he also hadn't talked to Tom in four days because there was a part of him that suspected his good friend.

It was starting to get dark and a layer of mud was starting to cake on his shoes, so he decided it was time to go back into the castle. Maybe he would play a game of Chess with Blaise.

But as he got inside, he realized he didn't feel like being around other people, so, with nothing else to do, he walked through the upper corridors. When he was on the third floor, he heard something behind him and stopped. Watching him closely, most likely on Filch's orders, was Mrs. Norris.

"Get away from me, you stupid cat!" Harry called to it. Mrs. Norris stared at him with large, yellow eyes before walking away down the corridor and out of sight. He knew she would be back.

"Harry?" someone asked as a door creaked open. Harry turned to see Professor Parish standing in the doorway of his office. "I heard you yell at that cat." There was a pause as the man looked Harry over curiously and then said, "Why don't you come in and have some tea?"

Harry nodded and walked inside, closing the door behind him. Parish sat down behind his desk where he conjured two cups of steaming tea. Harry turned to see a completely different room from the way it had been last year with Professor Quirrel.

For one, the room wasn't as dark and gloomy as it had been last year. There were a couple of torches around the walls, as well as some candles on Parish's desk, which lit the room exceptionally well. And a warm fire was going in the small fireplace to the left of the desk.

On the desk was a picture of a little girl; whom Harry could tell was his daughter. She had tight curls of light brown hair, freckles, and bright blue eyes. She was wearing a yellow summer dress with pink flowers all over it, as she smiled widely. But the picture wasn't moving like the others in Hogwarts; it was a Muggle picture.

Harry sat down in a plain wooden chair that was facing the desk. He took the cup and sipped it slowly, making a soft slurping noise. "I brought you in, Harry, because you've been looking uneasy all week. Is there something bothering you?"

Parish sat opposite him, looking at Harry with sympathy and worry. He wondered if he should tell Parish about everything. About how he has memory loss and ends up somewhere else, and how at the end of those moments he usually finds blood all over his hands. Or maybe about the fact that he hears a voice in the walls; a voice that wants to kill. Now that Harry thought about it, it seemed like he was going crazy. Maybe he was. It certainly sounded like it.

"I'm fine. Truly, I am," lied Harry. "It's just the attacks. I know they haven't happened in months. But I keep getting the feeling like something really bad is going to happen."

"Well, you've got nothing to worry about. _I_, on the other hand, do," said Parish with a nervous smile.

"I know, but I have a friend who's Muggle-born. I don't want anything to happen to her."

"It's good you care, Harry," said Parish. "Most Slytherins are happy those attacks happened."

"Well, I'm not one of them," said Harry. He took a long sip of tea, putting the cup back down when it was half empty.

"Glad to hear it," said Parish with a small smile. He took a green quill that was lying on his desk and put it in the inkbottle.

With nothing else he could think of to say, Harry said, "Professor, what do you think the monster is? The monster that lies in the Chamber of Secrets, that is."

"I'm not sure exactly. But whatever Slytherin put in that Chamber has got to be vile," said Parish. "He was angry with the three other founders, and would later want revenge. That's why all the Muggle-borns are being Petrified and no one else. I'm sure you were told the story in one of your classes."

Harry nodded, but he was still unsure about this creature. "What kind of creature could petrify someone? There can't be many, can there?"

"No, there aren't a lot of creatures that can. But, unfortunately, there isn't just one," said Parish. His teacher got up from his chair and went over to a bookshelf against the right wall. Parish scanned the books before he took out a dark orange book, and then sat back down.

Parish continued, "As a start, you can look through this book. I don't know how much of a help it'll be, but you might find something." His professor handed him the book. The cover said: Fantastic Beats and Where To Find Them by Newt Scamander. "I have some work to do. I'll see you in class. Have a good evening, Harry."

"You too, Professor. Thank you."

As Harry walked to the door, he heard Parish shuffle some parchment and then the sound of a quill as he wrote something. He closed the door behind him. When he turned to walk down the corridor, he saw Mrs. Norris, who was staring at him unwaveringly.

Harry jumped slightly at seeing her there. "Bloody cat," he muttered to himself. He checked his watch. It was after seven pm. It was an hour after any student was allowed in the corridors, and he knew Mrs. Norris would be leaving to tell Filch once he stepped away. He would have to get to the common room quickly.

Harry made his way to the ground floor, seeing only Hannah Abbot and Ernie Macmillan on the way. As he was passing the Great Hall, Harry heard a high-pitched laughing.

Peeves the Poltergeist suddenly flew up to him. "Harry Potty, I have a joke for you!" he said too excitedly. "What was wrong with the forgetful wizard's memory?"

"I don't have time for this, Peeves," said Harry as he walked around the ghost.

"You can't go until you answer my question, Mr. Potty," said Peeves. "Or I'll pour this bucket of mud all over you!"

It was then that Harry noticed that the whole time while standing there, Peeves had had his right hand behind his semi-transparent back. "Peeves, I have to get back to my common room."

"You have to answer my joke first! What was wrong with the forgetful wizard's memory?" he repeated looking mischievous. "If you don't answer correctly, I'll pour the mud all over you!"

"I don't know. He got hit with a spell," said Harry, not wanting Peeves to empty the bucket all over him.

"Incorrect! The answer is: it had a tendency to wand-er!" said Peeves with a large grin. He began laughing hysterically as he took out a metal bucket from behind him. Harry tried to dodge the mud, but missed horribly.

The sloppy, disgusting mud was poured all over him. It got into his robe and he could feel the warm substance running down his back. It was all over his hair and on his face. He used the part of his sleeves that had not been dirtied to wipe to face, but a lot of it remained. Harry knew (thanks to Dudley and his friends) that if he didn't take a shower soon it would start to solidify, and become even harder to wash off. Peeves spiraled away, laughing as hard as ever.

Harry, who was still standing in the Entrance Hall a minute later, trying to get the mud off his face, heard, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" He turned to see a disgruntled Filch.

"I…" started Harry.

"There's mud all over this floor! What have you been doing?"

"It wasn't me! It was Peeves! He poured mud on me!"

Filch seemed to believe Harry, but still made him follow him to his office. When they entered, Harry sat down on one of the chairs as Filch got a piece of parchment from his desk.

"Name: Harry Potter. Date: 8th of May, 1992. Crime: Dirtying the school–"

"But–" Harry started, but Filch gave him a look, which made him stop.

"Crime: Dirtying the school and wandering the corridors after hours. Punishment: Cleaning–"

A girl screamed followed by Peeves' loud laughter. Filch stopped writing, dropping his quill. He opened the door, but then stopped and told Harry in a stern voice, "Do not leave or there will be dire consequences." Filch closed the door quickly behind him.

Minutes past, but Filch had yet to return. So Harry decided to do some prying into the drawers he had gone into with Blaise last year. He looked into the drawer marked "Unknown Objects."

Opening the drawer, Harry saw many odd objects he had never seen before. Most didn't look harmful, but knowing Filch, he thought everything was dangerous. Harry moved aside some weird concave-like glass to see an old piece of parchment. It looked vaguely familiar.

As he stared at it, he remembered that he had seen Fred and George with it a week ago. Filch must have found it the day they had been caught with the Dungbombs, and had confiscated it. But it was just plain, old parchment. As he stared at it, he couldn't help but think it was something else.

Harry figured that if the Weasley twins had it then it must be useful in some way, so he took it from the drawer, carefully placing it into his robe pocket. He closed the drawer and sat back down. Just as he did, Harry heard Filch talking angrily outside the door.

The old, wooden door creaked open loudly and in walked Filch followed by Ginny Weasley. Her mud-covered body indicated to Harry that she had been splattered by Peeves also. She sat down in the chair next to Harry, giving him a small smile, which he returned.

"For you, Mr. Potter, I think a suitable punishment will be cleaning the Trophy Room. Be there tomorrow at five pm," said Filch. "Leave, so I can deal with Miss Weasley."

Harry got up, mouthed the word "Bye" to Ginny, and then left. Before going to sleep, he took a long, warm shower, spending most of the time getting the dried mud out of his hair.

After about a week of not writing to Tom, he knew it was time to do so. Harry sat on his bed, quill in hand, and began to write. He found that he was actually nervous, but laughed it off; there was nothing a bloke in a diary could do.

Harry paused, wondering if he should confess to Tom. It took only a moment, but he made his decision.

Just calm down, Harry. Take it slow. I really don't know what you're talking about. I remember you telling me about blackouts, but I don't know about any voices in corridors. People shouldn't hear voices. That isn't normal. What happens after you wake up from the blackouts?

Harry, have you Petrified any students? Are you controlling the monster?

"No, I don't think so. But I don't know what I do when I blackout. I don't know how long I blackout either."

Well, I think it's safe to say you are not the heir. You would probably know if you are, Harry.

"Then I'm going mad! That's no consolation, Tom!"

I really don't know what's wrong with you, Harry. Just take things slow and try to figure it out. I'll be here if you need me. All right?

"Okay."

Have a good night, Harry.

Harry closed the diary, not feeling any better about the whole situation. Maybe Tom was right: he probably would know if he were the Heir of Slytherin and if he were controlling the monster. That was one off his list. But that still left the fact that he might be going insane. He had blackouts and heard a voice in the halls. That didn't help at all.

And there was also the idea that it was Tom. Harry truly wanted to trust Tom, but there was a part of him that said he shouldn't. He always blacked out immediately after writing in the diary. What if it really was Tom?

* * *

**Preview of Chapter 35–Where They Shouldn't Be:** Harry finds out about the Marauder's Map, and he and Draco go sneaking into Hogsmeade at night… 


	35. Where They Shouldn't Be

"A good plan is like a road map: it shows the final destination and usually the best way to get there."

-H. Stanley Judd

**35**

**Where They Shouldn't Be**

No sunlight came through any windows because there were no windows, but for some reason Harry knew it was morning. He knew he couldn't go back to sleep, so he grabbed his glasses, got out of bed, and got dressed. The others were still asleep, but it didn't matter since they didn't have class for another hour. Nott stirred, but didn't wake.

Harry knew he wouldn't have time later to get his books, so he reached into his trunk and fetched out his Transfiguration, Potion, and History of Magic books, placing them in his messenger bag. He was just about to close his trunk when he saw the old parchment taken from Filch's office laying atop his robes.

Harry decided to take it with him; he wanted to know what it was and had to figure out what it did. After closing his trunk, he placed the parchment in his pocket. He closed the door to the dormitory slowly.

As he walked up the stairs to the common room, he decided he would look at it there, but as he got into the much warmer atmosphere of the room, he saw that there were other students inside. Three fifth year boys were having a conversation near the fire, a third year girl was finishing some last minute homework, and two first years were going over something in a book. Harry left the common room, wanting to find a more secluded place.

The large, spacious Entrance Hall room was a lot warmer than the Dungeons because of the many torches, giving of plenty of heat and light. To the left was the Great Hall, but he didn't want to eat just yet. If he waited, there would be less of a chance that he could figure out what the parchment was.

Instead, Harry went to the right. He walked past some empty classrooms and Filch's office until he was in a little corridor leading to the courtyard. No one was around there at the moment, so he took the parchment out of his pocket accompanied by his wand.

He put his wand against the parchment as he said, "Show yourself!" Nothing happened. Harry tried more, saying anything to find out what was on this old piece of paper, like "Open says me!" Again nothing.

Harry even tried the spell that Snape had used last year with his piece of parchment. "_Aparecium!_" Still nothing happened.

As a joke Harry said, "Harry Potter, ruler of Hogwarts, commands you to show yourself." He laughed afterwards, not realizing that words were now written on the parchment.

_Mr. Padfoot wants this Harry Potter, who's a bit big headed, to have a good day. _

Mr. Prongs entirely agrees with Mr. Padfoot's statement on both accounts.

Mr. Moony thinks Mr. Potter must be one of the best wizards in the school to have come across an object like this, even though he seems egotistical.

Mr. Wormtail instructs Mr. Potter to use this object wisely, and he too hopes he has a good day. 

Harry stared at the parchment carefully. At seeing the four blokes calling him big headed and egotistical, he opened his mouth in shock. "Hey," he said to the parchment, "That's not fair. I was only joking around." But nothing else showed. Was that all the parchment did? Make fun of other people?

Harry put away his wand, but continued to look at the parchment, which still had the gleaming words upon it. It seemed to him that that was the only thing it did do. Just as he was folding the parchment to put it away, Harry heard two boys laughing as they turned the corner. It was Fred and George Weasley.

He tried to put the parchment away before the Weasley twins saw, but they came up to him and snatched it out of his hands. Oddly enough, they both had looks of surprise and content on their faces at seeing it.

"_You_ have it!" exclaimed Fred as he held it. He unfolded it and began to laugh, so Harry assumed the words from the four guys were still there. He nudged George, who looked over it, laughing also.

"We thought Filch threw this out," said George.

"Well, I was in Filch's office when I saw it, so I took it. I saw you two holding it about two weeks back," said Harry.

"Damn Filch. We were getting ready to throw a Dungbomb–"

"–when he suddenly came out of nowhere and took us to his office," said George. "Too bad we didn't have the map open." He held the parchment up as he said map.

"He told us to empty our pockets and found it," said Fred.

"He thought it was another object from Zonko's that could cause some sort of disturbance, so he confiscated it," said George.

"Err…map?" asked Harry, confused.

"Oh, so you haven't figured it out yet, then," said George. Harry shook his head.

"This here parchment does more than just insult those who try to see what it is," said Fred with a smile.

"It shows the person using it a map of Hogwarts and where everyone is," said George.

"Show me!" Harry said, highly interested.

The Weasley twins stood on either side of him as they held the parchment between them. Fred, who was on his left, reached into his robes and took out his wand. As it touched the parchment, he said, "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good._"

Miraculously, lines of ink began to appear all over the parchment seeming to come from the end of Fred's wand. It spread all over the surface, like a ripple effect. Elegant, curvy words appeared at the top of the parchment:

_The Marauders Map_

By the Creators, Thinkers, Wanderers, and Mischief-Makers:

Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs.

They treasured this map until the end. May it be passed on through to the end of time.

Beneath the heading, the names Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs were signed. The first, Moony's, was smooth and curvy, Wormtail's was tightly-spaced and small, Padfoot's was smooth but sharp, and the last, Prongs, was relaxed and somewhat unorganized.

Below was an elaborate map of Hogwarts, and a damn good one, too. It showed every detail imaginable: the classrooms, the grounds, and even the secret tunnels. Some of the tunnels he never even knew existed. As he looked over it, he found that the tunnel he took to Dumbledore's office and to the Library was not present. The creators of this map probably weren't Slytherins, and therefore would have had no idea of its existence.

Harry looked closer at the map and saw little dots with names attached, moving around. Harry saw Snape's name moving around in his office. The name Ron Weasley was in the Gryffindor Tower, so he was obviously still sleeping. Dumbledore was in the Great Hall at the moment.

"Amazing," said Harry as he smiled. He couldn't take his eyes off the map.

"I'm sure a Slytherin, like yourself, is talking about the secret passageways," said Fred.

"There are seven, but don't use these four since Filch knows about them. This one here," said George as he pointed to a mirror on the fourth floor, "just caved in about a month ago."

"And I doubt you want to use this one," said Fred, who pointed to the Womping Willow, "I think you see the problem. But you can use this one," he said, pointing to a statue of a hump-backed witch, "since it leads–"

"–into the cellar of Honeydukes. Officially, you're not allowed into Hogsmeade until next year, but that never stopped us. And we would never dare stop a fellow law-breaker," said George as he smiled.

"From Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs to us, the Weasley twins, to you, the famous Harry Potter," said Fred as he handed him the map.

"Put it to good use for us, Harry," said George. "Oh, but don't forget to clear it when you're done."

"Just tap it and say, 'Mischief Managed,' and it all clears away," said Fred. "You wouldn't want just anyone to come across it, now would you?"

They smiled to him as they walked away and George said, "You have a good day, Harry." Soon, they were around the corner again, out of sight.

Harry looked at the map in his hands with delight. Taking his wand out, he tapped the parchment as he said, "_Mischief Managed!_" He was soon out of the corridor as if nothing had happened and made his way towards the Great Hall, a large smile on his face.

For two days, Harry had been deciding whether or not to tell Draco about the Marauder's Map, but he didn't want to go exploring the corridors and grounds by himself. Eventually, deciding to tell him won over.

"Harry, I ran out of ink, can I use some of yours?" Draco asked, sitting next to Harry at a table in the common room.

"Yeah, sure," Harry replied, finishing an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Draco took Harry's inkbottle and poured some ink into his own bottle. "Thanks," he mumbled before going back to his writing.

A couple of minutes later, Harry finished his essay and decided he wanted to tell Draco about the map then. "Are you almost done?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I want to show you something," said Harry. Right after he said that, Draco began to rush. It was obvious he wanted to know what that something was. His handwriting was a lot more unorganized from it.

"Done!" said Draco.

The two of them grabbed their books, quills, and inkbottles before going downstairs. Once inside the dormitory, Harry put the objects away, but Draco stood beside his bed, waiting. Harry grabbed the Marauder's Map from a side pocket of his trunk, going to Draco.

As he stood in front of his best friend, Harry unfolded the old parchment. Draco looked at him oddly. "This isn't just parchment," Harry replied to his look. "Watch. _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good._"

Immediately, the map of Hogwarts and its grounds began to sprawl itself on the parchment. Draco stood there amazed, his mouth slightly open in awe. "Is that…?"

"A map? Yes," said Harry. "Brilliant, isn't it?"

Draco nodded, staring at the map. "Where'd you get it?"

"I was caught by Filch last week," said Harry, "but he left, so I went looking in a drawer and found it. Thought it was nothing at first, but I eventually got it to work."

"Are those…people?" Draco asked.

"Yeah. Look, there's us," Harry said, pointing at two dots in the dormitory they were in. "There's Dumbledore pacing in his office, and…Snape's walking on the second floor."

"But there's a reason why I wanted to show you this," Harry said. Draco looked up at him. "I was thinking we could go into Hogsmeade. There's a tunnel that leads into it from a statue on the third floor. You wanna go?"

"Of course!" Draco replied, enthusiastically. "We can go anywhere. And the best part, is we're not technically allowed to."

"I'll get my Invisibility Cloak," said Harry quickly, putting the map in his left robe pocket. "But, Draco, I don't want anyone else to know about the map, okay?" His best friend nodded.

Harry grabbed the cloak, throwing it over Draco and himself. They were soon exiting the common room, making their way upstairs. He took out the map when they were in a corridor close to the Entrance Hall, wanting to make sure no one was around.

"Snape's still on the second floor. McGonagall is talking to Hagrid in the Entrance Hall, so we'll have to be quiet," Harry whispered.

When they were in the Entrance Hall, going upstairs, the two of them walked slowly. Their footsteps were barely audible. But it didn't really matter since Hagrid's voice was emanating throughout the hall.

Going through the first floor was a breeze. They met no one, but as they got to the second floor, it got a lot more difficult. Snape seemed to have a keen sense of hearing, even though Harry and Draco were walking unbelievably slow.

They had gotten onto the second floor, thinking they would be able to walk by Snape easily, but they had been wrong. The small taps of their feet hitting the stone floor made Snape turn toward them. Harry and Draco turned to look at each other, wondering how they were going to get past him. It was as if he knew they were there, but that was impossible.

It took about ten minutes for them to get past Snape. For a while he had followed the sound of their footsteps, but they stopped again, and he went the other direction.

The two of them sighed, walking more quickly up to the statue of the one-eyed witch. That's when Harry realized that he didn't know how to get into the passage. He opened the map, hoping it would help and, sure enough, it did. He saw a dot labeled _Harry Potter_ next to the statue he was at. There was another dot of _Draco Malfoy_ beside it. A tiny word looked like it was coming from Harry's dot. "_Dissendium_."

Holding his wand, Harry tapped the one-eyed witch and said the spell.

Suddenly, the hump of the witch opened. It was a small hole, so Harry checked the map to make sure no one was coming before tucking it away in his robes. "_Mischief Managed._ We can take the cloak off."

"You sure?" Draco asked, looking around.

"We won't be able to get through if we don't," Harry said. Draco nodded, and the cloak was taken off. Harry stuffed it in his robe pocket.

Afterwards, he then climbed through the opening before falling a way down, landing on cold earth. "Oomph!" Getting up, he rubbed his stomach, which he had landed hard on. He took a couple steps in the pitch-black darkness. In his right pocket was his wand, which he took out. "_Lumos!_" The earthy tunnel around him became more illuminated and he could see that it was very narrow.

Something behind Harry hit the floor with a thud. "Ow, that hurt," Draco said, as he got up. He brushed off his robes.

"Come on."

The tunnel they were in twisted numerous times before going upward. After more than twenty minutes, Harry and Draco came to the foot of very old steps. It was almost seven pm, so the store might still be open. Being as quiet as they could, they both went slowly up the steps. It seemed to take forever; it seemed like there were hundreds of steps.

"Are we ever going to get there?" Draco asked from somewhere behind him.

"I don't–ow!" Harry hit his head against something hard. He reached up to massage his head first, and then pointed his wand to over his head. It was a wooden trapdoor. "I think we're here."

There were no footsteps, no voices, no nothing. "_Nox!_" Harry put his wand away before pushing the trapdoor up. He took a few more steps up and peered around.

"What do you see?"

It was a cellar filled with numerous boxes. He could also see a wooden staircase, which he assumed let to the store of Honeydukes. Harry followed by Draco came out of the tunnel, after which they closed the trapdoor, and went up the stairs. Before opening the door, Harry took out his Invisibility Cloak and put it over the two of them.

After Draco opened the door, they found themselves in a marvelous candy store. They came around from behind the counter to stare amazed at the treats around them. There were tons of shelves with all kinds of sweets. The two of them were practically salivating, their mouths slightly open.

There weren't many people since it was getting late in the evening, but there were a couple of families with children as well as some young people on their own. Draco reached from under the cloak to take a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Harry grabbed some peppermint creams, which were shaped like toads, putting them in his pocket. He put a couple sickles in its place.

They stayed in their for about ten minutes, looking around at the candy. But then Draco whispered, "There's somewhere I want to go. Come on."

They exited Honeydukes, going up the street. Harry followed his best friend while they remained under the cloak. As Harry walked, he could feel the warm, soothing evening May air as it went through his cloak and robe.

Eventually, they came to a small inn; a sign with "The Three Broomsticks" was hanging above the door.

"My father told me about this place. It'll be more crowded in here than in Honeydukes. We can take off the cloak," Draco said without doubt.

"Err…fine." Harry took the cloak off, putting it into his robe pocket. He said, "Lets go in then."

* * *

**Preview of Chapter 36–Blackout:** After coming back from the Three Broomsticks, Harry's writes on the wall again, and someone else is Petrified… 


	36. Blackout

"I believe in looking reality straight in the eye and denying it."

-Garrison Keillor

**36**

**Blackout**

"Lets go in then," said Harry. Draco grabbed the handle of the inn and swung the door open.

The noisy room was full of people. There were only a few unoccupied tables, but they decided to sit at the counter since there were two vacant stools. They could just hear the sound of heels over the noise of the room. A curvy, pretty woman came over to them. "Good evening. What can I get you boys?" she asked pleasantly, glancing at Harry.

"Err..." Harry said. He wasn't sure what wizard drinks there were at a pub.

"Two Butterbeers," Draco said. The woman nodded and walked away for a moment. "My father told me the woman is Madam Rosmerta. She owns the inn."

"When did he tell you this?" Harry asked.

"Long time ago, when I was little. He told me he was going into Hogsmeade and I asked about it," said Draco. "Let me just say that we have to come back here during the day. You won't believe what the stores have here."

Madam Rosmerta came back with two tankards of Butterbeer. "Here you go," she said. The two boys handed over some coins. "You look like…Harry Potter," Madam Rosmerta said to Harry.

"That's me," Harry said casually. He took a large gulp of Butterbeer. He could feel the warm liquid as it went down his throat into his chest. It was mysteriously soothing.

"I knew you looked familiar," Madam Rosmerta said cheerfully. "You're father and his friends used to come in here all the time when they went to school."

"Really?" he asked, wanting to know more about his dad.

"They sure did," she replied with a smile. "Especially him and his best friend. They'd come in here whenever they could from Hogwarts. And speaking of Hogwarts, aren't you two supposed to be there? I don't see any other students." She said, looking at the two of them with narrowed eyes.

"We were…we…uh…" started Draco.

"–wanted to get away from the castle to see you!" said Harry with a smile.

Madam Rosmerta laughed cheerfully. "Thank you. I'm glad you wanted to see me, Potter–"

"Call me Harry."

"Well, I'm glad you two came, but its getting late. I won't say anything about your being here, but after you finish your drinks, I insist you leave," said Madam Rosmerta kindly. "All right?" Harry and Draco nodded, and she walked away to bring a man at a table another drink.

Madam Rosmerta came back a couple of times when she wasn't serving others to talk to Harry and Draco, who wanted the Butterbeer in their tankards to last as long as possible. She asked Draco's name, but he didn't get the same response as Harry. Instead, she just nodded, a somewhat grim look on her face.

When Harry and Draco couldn't deny the fact that they had nothing left in their mugs, Madam Rosmerta made them leave. Harry opened the door and they exited. He turned back just before the door closed to see Madam Rosmerta watching him, a small, almost sad smile on her face.

The worry was still within him. Harry would feel it at random moments of the day when he thought everything was fine. As Harry got up from dinner on Sunday evening, he looked at the back of the Great Hall, remembering the blood-red words that had once shown there. He had put them there.

As he walked though the Entrance Hall, a couple older students went through the front doors. Harry caught a glance of the outside, remembering that he had killed some roosters out there and that blood had gotten on his hands.

As he walked towards the steps, he saw the boys loo he had ran into after writing the message in the Great Hall. He remembered being in there, blood on his hands and a cut on his arm. Harry walked quickly down the steps, wanting to get away from the bad memories and from the immense feeling of worry that was in the pit of his stomach.

He knew he had to talk to Tom again.

Despite the fact he sometimes heard a voice and occasionally had blackouts, Harry knew he wasn't going insane. The more he thought about it, the more he knew he wasn't. There was only one explanation for what was happening: it was Tom Riddle. But Harry didn't want to see it, nor could he understand why or how Tom was doing it. It just made no sense.

Harry picked up his quill, dipped it in ink, and wrote.

_"Hello, Tom. How are you?" _

I'm quite fine, Harry. How are you?

"Not so good, Tom."

Still thinking about what is happening to you. Perhaps you should go to the Hospital Wing.

"Do you really think going to the Hospital Wing would help stop someone going insane?"

I am not sure. Maybe something can be done to help you.

"Help me? Well, actually, I think I'm doing quite well at the moment. No crazy person here, Tom."

That is good to hear. Maybe what happened are just indications of what is going to happen in the future.

"The future? So, you think I'll go insane in the future? When do you think that will happen?"

I do not know, Harry. Weeks. Months. Maybe years. But, Harry, you seem very agitated at the moment. Are you sure you are all right?

"No. Because, frankly, I don't think I'm going insane, Tom. I think it might be you. But I have no idea how or why you're doing this."

Me, Harry? How did you come up with that idea? I am just a memory in a diary. There is no way I could do any of the things you have told me about this year. I have no corporeal body. How do you imagine I did all those things?

"I don't know, Tom. Maybe it wasn't you, but you're the most likely person at the moment. Before I have blackouts, I'm always writing to you. Explain that?"

I don't know about the workings of your mind, Harry. Perhaps your mind has taught you to blackout whenever you write to me. Ask yourself that question, Tom wrote. 

Harry read over the words. He had asked himself that question numerous times, but had not come up with answer.

Words appeared on the page in Tom's writing, _There's something I would like you to do for me…_

_Walk…_his legs carried him forward without thought…_go up…_he walked up each stone step…_continue…_he was in the corridor…not many people around…it was after six pm…_go up…_he continued, going up to a large hall…_to the side…_he walked a little more …_wand…take out your wand…_he reached in his pocket…a hand on the familiar wood…_point your wand at the wall…flagrate…speak the word…_he said the word as his wand pointed at the wall before him…_again…spell out the word on the wall…continue…_he wrote out the word largely…he couldn't stop…he had to keep saying the spell…he had to keep writing…

Harry came out of another blackout, realizing he was in the Entrance Hall. His wand was in his right hand, so he quickly put it away. His heart began to pound quickly in his chest and his eyes widened. He was almost certain it was Tom now. There was no doubt. It had happened again. He had blacked-out again after talking to Tom.

The sound of footsteps took Harry out of his thought process. He realized he was out after six pm and that the person walking down the stairs might be a professor. But since he didn't have enough time to get to the stairs that led to the Dungeon, Harry had to hide behind a large suit of armor.

The person appeared in Harry's view. It was Professor Parish. He slowed as he stared at the wall before them both. Harry turned to look at the wall, coming to terms with the fact that there was something upon it. It marred the beauty of the gray stones, which made up Hogwarts.

Parish stared at the wall for a few moments, combing his fingers though his light brown hair. He sighed loudly before walking back up the stairs quickly.

When Harry was sure Parish was gone, he came out of his hiding place. He stared, worried, at the wall before him.

**SLYTHERIN**

The single word, which had been burned into the stone of wall, was made up of thick, uneven black lines.

Harry knew he had burned the word into the wall, but he couldn't remember doing it. When he heard more footsteps coming down, he ran quickly back to his hiding place, again not having enough time to get to the Dungeons.

Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Parish came into view, all looking quite grim and worried. Dumbledore walked up to the wall and touched a part of the word before bringing his hand back down.

"It's fresh," said Dumbledore. "Someone did this very recently. Oliver, did you hear anyone when you came down?"

"No, sir," said Parish. "I was the only one around."

"This is getting out of hand, Albus," said McGonagall. "We have to do something."

"_Rip…tear…_"

As quietly as he could, Harry slipped out from behind the suit of armor. The voice was going up the stairs, so he followed it, listening intently.

"_Must kill…_"

Harry followed the voice all the way up to the second floor. At one point he began to run, but couldn't remember when. He just needed to get to the person before he or she was Petrified. He needed to stop it.

His feet hit the floor firmly, and it was the only sound he could hear besides the voice, which continued to speak through the corridors. Suddenly, it slowed and he knew instantly where it went as Harry saw the door.

He hastily opened the door to Moaning Myrtle's loo, but just as he was running in, Myrtle was flying out. It had been so spontaneous and Harry had already been on edge that he fell backwards in shock, landing hard on his back.

"Harry!" Myrtle cried out. She was sobbing

He got up quickly, rubbing the back of his head. In rapid succession, he asked, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"There was a…a monster!" she exclaimed.

Harry looked at the door that was ajar. "What kind of monster? What did you see?"

"I didn't see it, but I heard a hissing, but it was almost growl like. It sounded very big and…and scary!" Myrtle said loudly, her voice shaking.

Harry ran into the room, looking around alertly. He stopped instantly, almost falling back again when he saw who was Petrified. It was Hermione. She was in front of one of the mirrors, holding onto the sides tightly. She didn't look like the others. Her face held fear as she stared ahead into the mirror. It was as though she knew what had been coming after her. Had she?

As he stared at Hermione's stiff face, he realized that he had let Hagrid down. He had wanted Harry to keep an eye on her, to make sure she stayed safe, but he hadn't done his job. He felt disappointment in himself wash over him as he turned away from Hermione to see a small stack of books at her feet.

One was laid open. Harry bent down to look at the page. The title was _Basilisk: The King of Serpents_. Since he didn't have time to look now, he ripped the page from the book, stuffing it in his left robe pocket.

Myrtle was still outside sobbing, but he didn't have time to calm her down, nor did he really want to. He ran through the corridors and down to the Entrance Hall. All the while, he hoped Dumbledore was still there. He needed to tell him about Hermione. His headmaster needed to know that someone had been Petrified again after so long.

When Harry got to the Entrance Hall, he saw Dumbledore was still there, talking to McGonagall and Parish.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry exclaimed. He was breathing heavily from running so fast.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Dumbledore asked.

"Hermione…she's been Petrified," Harry managed to say in gasps.

"Where?" Dumbledore asked, worry in his eyes.

Harry showed the three professors where Hermione was. After inspecting her for a few minutes, Dumbledore asked, "How did you know she was here, Harry? I didn't think many people went in here, especially not boys."

"I was…er…walking down the corridor when I saw her go in," said Harry. "I was all the way down, but then I saw Myrtle come out and she looked upset, so I ran in and found her."

Dumbledore nodded, understanding. "Miss Granger will be taken to the Hospital Wing. I think you should return to the Slytherin common room."

As Harry made his way to the door, he heard Dumbledore say, "Fudge will have to be told of this. I want the two of you to alert the other staff about what has happened here. And I want you all to be out in the halls tonight. Oliver, stay with someone. I'll be in my office."

The door closed and Harry exhaled audibly.

When he got to the dormitory, he saw it was empty. He was glad it was since he preferred it to be so at the moment. He took out the Marauder's Map before jumping onto his bed. He let his shoes fall to the floor with soft thuds, and then he closed the curtains to have more privacy.

Tapping the parchment with his wand, he said, "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good._"

Harry sat back against the headboard of his bed. He put his wand upon the blanket beside him, as he stared at the map. Most of the little dots with names attached were moving around — clearly no one was asleep yet. The little dot of _Draco Malfoy_ was upstairs in the common room, sitting by the fireplace with _Vincent Crabbe_ and _Gregory Goyle_."

As he looked at the grounds, he saw a dot appear labeled _Cornelius Fudge_. He was moving forward to meet Dumbledore, whose dot had just arrived out of the Entrance Hall. It looked like they were going toward Hagrid's.

* * *

**Preview of Chapter 37–Hostile Conversation:** A Slytherin is Petrified and Fudge has a conversation with Dumbledore, but when Lucius Malfoy arrives, Dumbledore is told to leave the school… 


	37. Hostile Conversation

"Fear not those who argue but those who dodge."

-Marie Von Ebner-Eschenback

A/N: I truly don't know if the Slytherin I chose is in fact Muggle-born, but since there's no proof either way, I just decided on this person. You'll see who it is soon. Enjoy!

**37**

**Hostile Conversation**

Yesterday, late at night, Hagrid had been taken away by Fudge. Harry had watched as Dumbledore, Fudge, and Hagrid stayed in Hagrid's cabin, and had witnessed the two dots of Hagrid and Fudge move off the map. But he didn't know where Hagrid had been taken, although he did know why.

He presumed that Hagrid had been taken because of what had happened fifty years ago. Because Dumbledore was the school's headmaster, he needed to seem like he was doing something about the Chamber of Secrets being open; and Fudge, the Minister of Magic, definitely needed to appear as if he and the Ministry were doing something for the situation. He couldn't appear to be just sitting idly by.

Hagrid being taken by Fudge, the message on the wall, and Hermione being Petrified was all anyone would talk about at breakfast the next day. The Great Hall was swarming with students who were moving back and forth between the tables to talk about it.

"Someone told me Hagrid was taken by the Minister of Magic!"

"Did you hear about the writing on the wall?"

"It said 'Slytherin,' so I'm guessing it was one."

"Of course, who else would it be?"

"I can't believe Hermione Granger was Petrified! I would have thought that the know-it-all would be able to defend herself."

"Guess not."

The talk continued all day. Harry could hear students murmuring as he went to class, as he proceeded to lunch, and even later that day as he trudged to dinner.

"Malfoy! Potter! Did you hear about what was written on the wall yesterday?" Flint asked as he walked over.

"Yeah," said Draco. "Who do you think did it?"

"Not sure. But all the other Houses think it's you, Potter," Flint said. "If I were you, I'd use that to my benefit."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "Use it how?"

"If people thought I was the heir, I'd use that to scare them!"

"Oi, Flint!" Higgs called from further down the table. "Where's Bletchley?"

Flint shrugged. "How the hell do I know?" He turned to look at Harry and Draco. "See ya around, Heir of Slytherin."

Harry gave him a look, but Flint hardly noticed since he was laughing. Draco shrugged casually, going back to his food.

As Harry stuffed part of a baked potato in his mouth, he thought about Hagrid. Where had they taken him? Was there a wizard prison? Was that where he was at the moment? Harry had no idea, but he hoped Hagrid was all right.

He then thought of Hermione. She was probably lying in a bed in the Hospital Wing, stiff as a board. His gaze landed on Ron, who was sitting at the Gryffindor table. Ron was staring, dejectedly, at a half-empty plate before him, his right hand holding a fork loosely as his left hand lay in his lap. He seemed to know Harry was watching him because he looked up, and their eyes met for a moment.

"I am so full right now," Blaise said to his left, as he massaged his stomach.

"Let's go back to the common room," said Draco.

"Harry, you wanna play a game of Exploding Snap or Chess?" Blaise asked. Harry nodded.

"I'll play the winner," said Draco.

Harry, Draco, and Blaise were near the front of the group of Slytherins as they made their way down to the Dungeons. Flint, Pucey, Higgs, and two other older students were walking in front of them, laughing.

Higgs said, "Heir" to the wall, and soon they were entering the Slytherin common room. But suddenly Flint and the others stopped, as did their laughing. Harry could hear a shrill whistling coming from the common room as he walked around Flint to see what had made him stop, literally, in his tracks.

Miles Bletchley, the Keeper for the Slytherin Quidditch team, was standing off to the side near the fireplace, his body stiff. He was Petrified. He was holding a glass Sneakoscope up to his eyes, looking through it. His face didn't hold a look of fear, like Hermione's had.

The number of Slytherin's began to grow as they continued to enter in the room. When some older boys saw Bletchley, they began to laugh, almost hysterically. "I didn't know Bletchley was a Mudblood!"

Harry just stared at Bletchley. The third year had no idea that for the rest of his school years he would be an outcast. No Slytherin can be Muggle-born. Or if they were, they had to hide it. And Bletchley had hid it well, but now it had come out into the open, and he was ruined.

"I'll be right back," Harry said to Draco. "Dumbledore has to know about this."

Very quickly, he made his way through the growing number of Slytherins. The group extended out in the corridor. Harry could hear his footsteps as he ran up to the Great Hall. Dumbledore had been there for dinner; perhaps he was finishing his desert.

Luckily, his headmaster was still there. He ran down the middle isle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables to the Staff table. He stopped at the end, panting, trying to catch his breath.

Dumbledore stood up. "What is it, Harry?"

"Someone else has been Petrified," said Harry.

"Who?"

"Miles Bletchley."

Dumbledore seemed to stop for a moment, glancing at Harry, but then walked swiftly forward. Harry followed him all the way back down to the common room. When they got there, the Slytherins moved away to make space for the headmaster. Dumbledore went to Bletchley and looked at his stiffened body.

"Harry, take that piece of parchment," instructed Dumbledore, pointing to a nearby table. "Write the word 'alert' on it. Then fold it and write 'Cornelius Fudge.' I hope it's okay if I use your owl. That piece of parchment must get to the Minister of Magic. Do so quickly."

Without further ado, Harry ran over to the table, took the parchment, and began to write what Dumbledore told him. When he was done, he ran with the parchment all the way up to the Owlry, stopping only when he needed air.

"Hedwig, you have to take this to the Minister of Magic, okay? You have to be quick," Harry explained to his white owl. Hedwig hooted understandingly before flying off.

Harry watched Hedwig fly off into the distance for half a minute, and then walked out of the owl dropping-filled room into the corridors. He then made his way back down to the Slytherin common room slowly. It was empty when he went in, except for Dumbledore, Snape, and the Petrified body of Bletchley.

The Potions Master turned to look at him when he entered. "Why aren't you downstairs with the others, Potter?"

"It's all right, Severus," said Dumbledore. "I had a small task for him. And now I have another for you, Harry. While Mr. Bletchley's body is being moved, I want you to wait at the entrance doors for the Minister of Magic. Bring him to the entrance of my office, which is where I will meet you."

"Can I retrieve something my dormitory first, Professor?" Harry asked.

"Yes, of course."

Harry ran down the stairs quickly, knowing Snape was watching him as he did. When he opened the door to his dormitory, Draco and Blaise jumped off their beds, coming toward him. Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott sat on their bed, watching. He knew they had questions and it showed on their faces, but he didn't have time to answer.

"I can't talk right now," Harry said quickly. "I have to do something for Dumbledore."

"But you just did something for Dumbledore. You sent that letter," said Draco. "What else do you have to do?"

"It concerns the Minister of Magic," said Harry. "It should take a minute, but I'm not planning on coming back for a little bit more than that."

He reached into his trunk, grabbing his Invisibility Cloak and his Conglomerate Stone. He could tell the conversation between Dumbledore and Fudge was going to be important and he wanted to hear it.

"What're you going on about? Why is the Minister of Magic coming? And why aren't you coming back for a while?" Draco asked in quick succession. He looked uncertain and slightly worried.

Harry turned to his best friend as he stuffed his Invisibility Cloak in his pocket, making sure it was unseen. "Don't think too much about it," he said. He began to walk to the door. "And don't wait up for me. I'll tell you what happens tomorrow." He then exited the room, closing the door behind him.

"Good evening, Minister," Harry said to the man in the bowler hat as he came up the steps.

"I don't know how good it is, young man," Fudge said. "I'm not here for good reasons."

"I know, sir," Harry replied.

Fudge turned to look at him as they went through the entrance doorway. His eyes darted to his scar, and Harry knew Fudge knew who he was. But he didn't really think about it, he had to get the Minister up to the seventh floor and to the entrance of Dumbledore's office.

"Who was the person Petrified, Mr. Potter?" Fudge asked as they got to the first floor.

"A Slytherin named Miles Bletchley."

"I see," said Fudge. "That's six Petrified, seven including Myrtle."

"Myrtle?" Harry asked. "The ghost?"

"Fifty years ago she was killed by Slytherin's monster when the Chamber was open," Fudge explained. Harry nodded, finally knowing how she had come to be a ghost of Hogwarts.

A door on the second floor opened. Fudge and Harry turned to see Professor Parish looking out of his office. Harry saw that he looked tired; his eyes were slightly droopy and his hair was somewhat messy. "Harry, what are you doing?" Parish asked. "Hello, Minister."

"I'm bringing the Minister to Dumbledore's office, Professor," said Harry.

"Okay. Good evening then," Parish said with a yawn and a nod. He closed the door.

Harry and Fudge continued up the rest of the way without any other distractions. When they got there, they only had to wait a minute for Dumbledore to arrive.

"Good evening, Cornelius," Dumbledore said as he walked forward softly, his dark blue robe billowing behind him.

"Hello, Dumbledore," said Fudge. "I think its best we get to our conversation."

"Thank you, Harry," said Dumbledore, a small twinkle in his eyes. "You may go back to your dormitory." Harry nodded, going back down the corridor.

He waited until Fudge and Dumbledore had gone up the escalator-like stairs before taking out his Invisibility Cloak and throwing it over himself. Then he crept toward the stairs, wondering if his presence would be known if he were invisible. It was. The statues before the headmaster's office stopped him from going any further.

Harry tried a couple of candies, knowing that Dumbledore always had a candy as his password. When he found the right one ("Acid Pop," Harry said.), he went up the steps. The door was closed, like it always was, but Harry could hear the somewhat mumbled voices of Dumbledore and Fudge, as he stood next to the door, his ear at the crack between the door and its frame.

"–I have done what you have already asked, Cornelius," said Dumbledore. "And then some."

"Yes, I know. I heard," said Fudge. "But, apparently, it's not enough. Students can't keep being Petrified. Eventually, something much worse will happen. I'm thinking it and I know you are, too. If nothing can be done, the school will have to be shut down."

"I know," Dumbledore said, grimly.

"I'm sorry, Dumbledore. It's the only way."

"I understand, Cornelius. I just have sympathy for the students that have nowhere else to go and to the students who would have come here."

"Believe me, I don't want Hogwarts closed just as much as you; you even more so, I know," said Fudge, "so, if you can figure out how to stop this monster and stop all the attacks then it'll be forgotten on my part."

There was silence for a moment, then Fudge asked, "What do you think can be done, Dumbledore?"

"At the moment, no student is allowed out past six. They must also walk with another student, so no one is alone. And the teachers have been escorting their students to their next classes," said Dumbledore. "The only way, I see, is if Slytherin's monster and the Heir of Slytherin himself is caught."

"That would be a miracle," Fudge said casually.

"He has to be around here somewhere. It's only a matter of time."

As Harry stood beside the door, he heard footsteps behind him and the occasional thud of a cane. He turned under the cloak to see blond-haired, black-cloaked, cane-carrying Lucius Malfoy.

"He?" asked Fudge. "You have an idea who it is?"

"Yes, I have an idea."

"We can take the student in for questioning, and have him watched," said Fudge.

When Mr. Malfoy came closer, Harry could see part of a sheet of parchment sticking out of his right robe pocket.

"I don't think that would work," Dumbledore said simply.

"Why not?"

Mr. Malfoy knocked twice on the door. After doing so, he quickly wiped the front of his robes and brushed some hair back. Malfoy's always had to look respectable, Harry knew.

When the door was opened, Harry peered in. Fudge was standing by the door as Mr. Malfoy walked into the room. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, his fingers intertwined as he stared ahead at Mr. Malfoy. Just before the door was closed by Fudge, Dumbledore said, "Good evening, Lucius."

The door was closed and the words seemed a bit more muffled, but Harry listened on.

"Good evening, Dumbledore," Mr. Malfoy replied. "Good evening, Minister."

"What brings you to my office, Lucius?" Dumbledore asked, almost curtly.

Harry heard the sound of something being slammed onto Dumbledore's desk. He guessed it to be the parchment that had been Mr. Malfoy's pocket.

"This," said Mr. Malfoy. "Nothing is being done to stop the attacks at this school. _You're_ not doing anything to stop the attacks at this school. The governors feel as though you're losing your touch, Dumbledore. They've called for your temporary removal as headmaster of Hogwarts."

"I see all the governors signatures are signed here," said Dumbledore.

"Lucius, that's not necessary," said Fudge. "We're handling the situation."

"No offense, Minister," said Mr. Malfoy, "but I, and the other governors, think the situation is not being handled as well as it should be. Until further notice, Dumbledore is no longer in charge of this school."

"Is there more than what meets the eye to your not wanting me to be headmaster, Lucius?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"Not at all, Dumbledore," Mr. Malfoy said. "The–"

"Lucius, this is ridiculous!" interrupted Fudge. "Dumbledore must remain here. The students must know that there headmaster is here and working on a solution."

"There is no solution that he or you are working on! How many students and families are you going to fool when more people are attacked?" Mr. Malfoy asked.

"Dumbledore, this is–"

Dumbledore must have made a gesture to make Fudge stop because there was silence for a moment. Then Harry's headmaster spoke. "If Lucius and the other governors feel I should be temporarily removed, then I will certainly renounce my title as headmaster."

Harry heard Dumbledore quickly scribble something on parchment before getting out of his chair. There was silence in the room except for when Fudge cleared his throat. Suddenly, the door opened and the three men went down the escalator-like steps. Harry quickly followed, not wanting to miss anything.

Headmaster Dumbledore, the Minister of Magic, and Mr. Malfoy, with Harry right behind them, walked down in almost complete silence. Hardly anything was said at all. He could feel the tension.

As Harry strode behind them, he couldn't imagine Dumbledore not at Hogwarts. What would happen when the students found out he was gone? Most of the students, he guessed, would be troubled by the fact. Dumbledore meant protection and composure. When he was there, people felt safer.

Well, Harry sure as hell did anyway.

Soon, they were in the Entrance Hall, moving toward the main doors. Harry heard hurried footsteps behind him. He turned, as did the men. Professor McGonagall was coming toward them.

"What's going on here? Albus, where are you going?" she asked.

"I've been temporarily removed as headmaster, Minerva," Dumbledore said with ease. "You're headmistress now. Take care of the students."

McGonagall opened her mouth to speak, but just nodded her head at Dumbledore's words.

Fudge opened one of the doors, allowing Mr. Malfoy through. Dumbledore was about to go through as well, but McGonagall said, "Wait. Where will you be staying? Surely you're not going to…"

"No, of course not," said Dumbledore, a small smile on his face. "I thought some time at the Three Broomsticks would be nice. Madam Rosmerta always gave me free Butterbeer." She nodded and he nodded back.

Dumbledore then went through the doorway and Fudge accompanied him. Harry glanced quickly at McGonagall. She looked troubled; the lines of her face showed in the torchlight, and some hairs had come out her bun, looking almost messy. But he knew she was a strong-willed person, everyone knew it.

Harry turned away from McGonagall, going through the still open door. The three men were just getting down to the grounds. He went promptly down the steps, knowing they wouldn't be able to hear him since it was slightly windy.

"Shall I accompany you to the Three Broomsticks, Dumbledore?" Fudge asked pleasantly.

"Sure, why not?" Dumbledore said. He looked at Mr. Malfoy. "You may return to your wife, Lucius, you are no longer needed here."

"Trying to control me, Dumbledore?" Mr. Malfoy asked, somewhat rudely.

"Why would I need to control you?" Dumbledore asked.

"Perhaps our differences would be an indication."

"Well, I certainly do not find the need to control someone so they will be on my side, even if I have differences with them," Dumbledore said smoothly. "Besides, differences can be resolved."

"Other differences perhaps," said Mr. Malfoy. There was a pause as he took out the blacked key, which Harry knew would transport him to Malfoy Manor. "Good night, Dumbledore. Minister." He held the key tightly. "Malfoy Manor," Mr. Malfoy said clearly, and in a couple seconds, he was gone.

A gust of wind came at Harry, who was standing near Dumbledore. He had to hold the sides of the Invisibility Cloak to make sure his feet weren't seen, but he knew for a moment they had been. When he looked up, he could have sworn Dumbledore had been looking in his direction.

"Let's get those free Butterbeers, Dumbledore," said Fudge.

Dumbledore nodded. "I hope my students know that loyalty to a person remains, even when the person is gone."

"I'm sure they know, Dumbledore," said Fudge. "Besides, I don't think you'll be gone long."

The two men began to walk on the grounds towards Hogsmeade. But soon the darkness engulfed them and their outlines were barely visible. When Harry could see them no longer, he took his Conglomerate Stone out of his pocket and touched the green stone, being instantly transported to the common room.

* * *

**Preview of Chapter 38–Crumpled Paper:** The week following Dumbledore's absence makes everyone feel unsafe, and Harry finds out what Slytherin's monster is, but has no way of stopping it… 


	38. Crumpled Paper

"Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us."

-Rainer Maria Rilke

**38**

**Crumpled Paper**

Harry opened his eyes, feeling their heaviness as he forced them open to see near pitch-blackness. He had hardly slept. His eyes hurt when he turned toward the one torch giving off a gentle flame.

Last night when Harry had returned to the dormitory, all his friends had been asleep, so he had changed and gone directly to bed, but it had been a restless night. He had tossed and turned many times. When he did had slept, his dreams were riddled with thoughts of Dumbledore's leaving Hogwarts.

Knowing he wouldn't get anymore sleep, Harry got up. He dressed and went into the common room with his bag and his books for the day.

Harry waited for a while in the common room, doing some last minute work, and was content when Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle came into the room. Draco immediately went toward him, anticipation on his face as he asked, "What happened last night?"

Harry retold all of what had happened yesterday evening. How he had listened to Dumbledore's conversation, how Mr. Malfoy had come, and how it had all led to Dumbledore's temporary removal from Hogwarts.

"Dumbledore's not at Hogwarts?" Blaise asked, almost shocked. Harry nodded his head.

"I think it's a good thing he's not here," said Draco. "My father always said Dumbledore was the worst thing that ever happened to this place."

Crabbe and Goyle nodded at what Draco said. Harry and Dumbledore weren't exactly friends, but they weren't enemies, and he didn't feel the same way about their headmaster. But didn't say so.

It turned out all of Hogwarts knew Dumbledore was gone. Harry didn't know how people knew or how word had gone around so fast, but it had. When he came into the Great Hall accompanied by Draco and Blaise, he could hear bits of conversation between the other students.

Harry glanced at the Staff table, noticing the headmaster's obvious empty seat.

As he looked around, he could tell that the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws were troubled by Dumbledore leaving the school. They noticeably more saddened and upset than any of the Slytherins, who looked like they couldn't care less if he was gone.

By Thursday, just a couple of days later, more and more students felt the pang of Dumbledore's absence. Harry knew Dumbledore gave a sense of protection to all the people within the castle; since he wasn't there, hardly anyone, whether student or staff, went in the corridors except between classes or to obtain food.

Even the Slytherin Purebloods weren't walking the corridors alone. Draco had asked Harry a couple of times to go with him to the Great Hall for dinner when he could have gone by himself. He didn't know why Draco was so afraid of a monster that couldn't harm him.

Thursday evening, Harry and Draco decided to catch up on their Animagus reading in the Room of Buried Secrets since they hadn't done it in two weeks because he had gotten the map and because of all the people who had become Petrified.

When Harry reached into his robe pocket to take out a bottle of ink, he found that his Conglomerate Stone was there. He must have grabbed the robe he had worn on Monday night. As he looked at it, he realized he had only assigned three stones to different places — Slytherin common room, the Burrow, and Malfoy Manor.

"What are you doing?" asked Draco, who was sitting with his legs out on the couch, a book open in front of him.

"I was thinking of assigning this room to a stone," said Harry, looking at his best friend.

"I think you should 'cause then we wouldn't have to walk all the way up here all the time," said Draco.

Harry nodded, turning back to the Conglomerate stone. He took out his wand, stopped for a moment, and then chose the yellow stone. "_The Room of Buried Secrets!_" The transparent, buttery yellow stone turned an opaque, almost mustard yellow. He then put his stone and his wand back in his pocket.

Suddenly, he realized that there was something else in his pocket: a small sheet of paper that was slightly crumpled. He took it out to examine, not remembering how it had gotten there. But when he flattened it out, he instantly knew what it was. It was the paper he had ripped from a book near Hermione's Petrified body.

Still standing, he read the paper, his eyes fixed to it.

_Basilisk: The King of Serpents_

_The Basilisk is a large snake that can live for hundreds of years. Its methods of killing are as follows: with its venomous fangs and with its yellow eyes that instantly kill anyone who looks into them. Spiders crawl from the Basilisk out of fear, but the Basilisk slithers from roosters since the cry of one is fatal to it._

"Bloody hell!" Harry exclaimed.

"What?" Draco asked, looking up from his book with shock.

"I can't believe it. Slytherin's monster is a Basilisk; a giant snake," he said, looking at Draco. "No wonder no one else could hear it. I should've known. I'm the only Parselmouth in the school."

"How did you figure that out?"

"I found this piece of paper from a book about Basilisks," said Harry. Draco got up from the couch to look over at the paper in Harry's hands. "It says that 'spiders crawl from the Basilisk.' Remember that night when all the spiders were in our room? They were running from it. And it says 'the Basilisk slithers from roosters since the cry of one is fatal to it.' Hagrid's roosters have turned up dead. The heir didn't want his monster to be harmed because then it couldn't finish what he wanted it to do."

"But, look, it says that Basilisks eyes will kill someone instantly when they look at them, but no one has died," said Draco.

"Maybe they didn't die because they didn't look into the Basilisks eyes," Harry said simply.

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it, Draco. No one did look into the Basilisk's eyes," Harry explained. "Creevey was looking through his camera, Clearwater was looking through a window, Finch-Fletchley was looking into a mirror, as was Granger, Boot was looking into a puddle of water, and Bletchley was looking through his glass Sneakoscope. If they saw the Basilisk's eyes, it was only through a reflection of it, so they only became Petrified."

"But how would a Basilisk get around the school, Harry?" Draco asked, looking sideways at him.

Harry thought about it for a moment, but he had no idea and voiced so. "And we can't stop the Basilisk because we don't know how it's getting around, and no one knows where the Chamber of Secrets is."

"Couldn't you talk to it or something?" asked Draco. "You do speak Parseltongue."

"This Basilisk is Slytherin's monster, so it's controlled by the Heir of Slytherin. It wouldn't listen to me."

"Well it might be worth a try," said Draco. "If you ever hear it again, I think you should try talking to it. Make sure no one's around, of course."

Harry nodded, knowing that if he had the chance, he would attempt to talk to the infamous gigantic snake.

Harry and Draco walked into the Great Hall Friday evening for dinner to find people buzzing with talk. The two boys turned to each other, wondering what was going on. As they sat down, Pucey came over to the them.

"Did you hear?" he asked. Harry and Draco shook their heads. "Dumbledore's back. A couple of people saw him entering the school again."

"Back for good?" Harry asked.

"That's what everyone's saying," said Pucey before walking away.

"He was barely gone for a week," said Draco, slightly angry.

But Harry was too pleased for words that he was back. "I wonder why he was allowed to come back."

Harry didn't have to wonder long. Twenty minutes into dinner, Dumbledore came through the Great Hall doors with a smile on his face, his eyes twinkling in the candlelight.

The headmaster walked to the Staff table, and the room quieted down as the students, taking their seats, watched him.

"You may be wondering why I am here after leaving for a couple of days. You may even be wondering why I had left in the first place because I doubt the rumors that had spread had been correct," said Dumbledore. "My leaving on Monday night was because the governors of this school believed I was not accomplishing my obligation to secure the safety of you all. But they made false accusations.

"Monday night, the Minister of Magic was here with me, discussing what we could further to do make sure you remain safe. But that night I had to leave. Now, I am back because Cornelius Fudge did not like the fact that I was not here, watching over this castle and its students during a time of crisis. And I assure you, I am making sure you all remain protected against any harm."

The staff and the students clapped excitedly. Even most of the Slytherins were applauding. As Harry put his hands together for Dumbledore's return, he looked sideways to see Draco just sitting there, his hands folded over his chest.

Harry continued to applaud.

As dinner finished, students left the room, flooding out into the Entrance Hall. Harry and Draco were among them. But as they turned toward the Dungeon stairs, someone caught Harry's eye.

Mr. Lucius Malfoy was standing near the main doors. His face held a look of anger. His eyes were slightly narrowed as they stared ahead. His right hand, which was holding his long, black cane, was clenched tightly over the top of it.

Harry pointed out the man and the two of them walked toward him. "Father, why are you here again?" Draco asked.

"Dumbledore is not supposed to be back at the castle," said Mr. Malfoy. "Every governors signed the parchment saying that he was temporarily removed, but he returned nonetheless. I'm here to inform him that he has to leave or there will be consequences."

"Dumbledore told us less than an hour ago that he returned because Fudge allowed him to," said Draco.

"That is correct," said a voice behind them. Mr. Malfoy, Harry, and Draco turned to see Dumbledore standing there. "I returned because the Minister allowed me to. Let me guess: you did not believe that, Lucius, and so you are here to tell me that I still have to leave. I am not sorry when I say that I will not be leaving. You came here unreasonably."

"You're not allowed to be here, Dumbledore," said Mr. Malfoy, livid. "All the governors signed for your removal. It doesn't matter if Fudge allows you to come back."

"Does not matter? I may be mistaken, but it is my belief that Fudge is the Minister of Magic and has ruling over what the governors say. But I am certain that I am not," Dumbledore said with a hint of sarcasm.

At that Mr. Malfoy said nothing. Though his face did show bitterness and slight anger; his eyes were narrowed at the headmaster. Dumbledore gave him a small nod, quickly glanced at Harry and Draco, and then walked away. His footsteps tapped lightly on the marble floor, his light blue robe trailing behind him. When he turned the corner to go up the steps, the end of his robe gave a soft snap.

* * *

**Preview of Chapter 39–Eyes That Kill:** Someone is killed by Slytherin's monster… 


	39. Eyes That Kill

"Running down corridors…got to get to you."  
-Athlete, "Wires"

**Warning: Charact****er Death. You have been forewarned.**

__

**39**

**Eyes That Kill**

Why did Flitwick have to give Harry detention that evening? Why _that_ evening? Harry and Draco were going to take an excursion out to Hogsmeade that Tuesday night. But, of course, Harry had to be caught just before he was going to make a pillow explode (they were supposed to be making teacups on the other side of the room land on the pillows). He wanted the feathers inside to fly everywhere for a little enjoyment, but instead got detention at half past six.

Just before leaving the common room to walk all the way to Flitwick's office, which was in a tower leading from the seventh floor, Harry decided to get his Conglomerate Stone from his dormitory. When his detention ended, it would be late, and he wouldn't want to walk all the way back down since he knew he would be tired. He put the feather-light stone in his pocket and proceeded up to his detention.

Harry knocked on the door when he arrived at Flitwick's office. "Come in," called Flitwick from within. He opened the door and went in.

Doing lines was not enjoyable at all. As Harry sat at a corner of Flitwick's desk, twenty minutes later, his right hand began to cramp, but he had to keep writing until two whole sheets of parchment were full. The room was dimming as the evening wore on.

_I will not attempt to create disturbances in class,_ Harry wrote repeatedly.

Finally, almost two hours after starting, he finished his lines. It was such a relief that he sat back in his wooden chair and exhaled audibly. "You may leave, Potter," Flitwick said from behind his desk. "I hope you learned to not try to cause any more ruckuses."

Harry nodded before leaving the office, going down the stairs onto the seventh floor. As he turned a corner, he took his Conglomerate Stone from his pocket, and just as he was about to touch the green stone, he heard a voice.

It was the chilly, skin crawling voice that he had heard so many times before.

"_Kill._"

Harry drew nearer to the wall, putting his Conglomerate Stone back in his pocket as he did, and began to follow the voice. Initially, he walked, but as the voice trailed down the stairs to the sixth and then fifth floor, he started running to follow it.

"_Kill. Must kill._"

Just as quickly as it had appeared, the voice suddenly disappeared. Harry was breathing heavily from having run. He turned a corner and saw Professor Parish at the far end of the corridor. Parish was facing left, looking down another corridor. Harry saw that he was staring straight ahead, his arms stiffly at his side.

"Professor Parish?" Harry asked, as he walked over slowly. But perhaps Parish couldn't hear him since he was too far. As he watched the unmoving Professor Parish, he knew something was very wrong. He could feel it.

Seeing Parish's wand hit the floor was what made Harry run toward the end of the corridor, where his professor stood. He kept his eyes locked on Parish as he ran. When Harry got more than half way across the corridor, he saw that there was a look of pure terror on Parish's face. He watched, as if in slow motion, his professor fall to the ground with a loud thud, landing hard on his back.

"_Professor!_"

Harry continued to run, faster than before. He got to Professor Parish and knelt down beside him, but not before checking the corridor Parish had been looking down. There was nothing in sight. When he turned back, Harry saw that his professor's eyes were wide in fear, his pupils staring ahead, blankly. His face was extremely pale, looking as if all color had been leached from it very suddenly.

"Professor? Professor Parish?" Harry asked with unease in his voice. The only thing he could think to do was check his pulse. So he picked up Parish's left hand and put two fingers to the inside of his wrist. He felt no pulse…he felt nothing.

Wide eyed, Harry stood up and took a step back. His foot landed on something hard and he heard it break. He stepped back again and realized that he had strode on Professor Parish's wand, snapping it in half.

Realizing he was on the fifth floor, which was too far to run for help, he reached his hand into his pocket and took out his Conglomerate Stone. The only stone assigned, that would be of use, was the green: the Slytherin common room.

Quickly, Harry touched the stone. He felt a pull and his feet lifted off the ground, but then they touched back down again. He almost lost his balance, but managed to retain it.

"Harry! What happened in detention?" asked a voice. Harry recognized it as Draco's, but he didn't turn to acknowledge him. Instead, he put his hand to the wall, since he had landed next to it, and ran out toward Snape's office.

Harry burst the door open and ran toward Snape, who was sitting at his desk. "Snape! Quick! …Professor Parish…he's on the fifth floor! …He's dead!" Harry informed Snape in gasps. He was out of breath, but managed to get the words out. Snape just sat there behind his desk, and Harry thought that he would tell him to leave because he was lying. His breathing became more normal. "You have to believe me!"

Snape finally sprang up from his seat. Harry knew Snape had been watching him to make sure he wasn't lying. As they exited his office, Snape said, "How did you get down here so fast?"

Harry lifted his hand to show that he was holding a Conglomerate Stone. "Assigned to the common room," said Harry, quietly, as he looked at the floor. He couldn't get the picture of Professor Parish lying on floor with his eyes open, out of his head.

Somehow, in less than five minutes, they had made their way up to the fifth floor. Harry stopped walking when he was a couple feet away from his old professor, but Snape kept going. He knelt down to the body.

After a couple of seconds, Snape stood up and exhaled loudly. "He's dead," Snape said, more to himself than to Harry. After some silence Snape said, "Professor Dumbledore needs to be told of this. I'll stay here with the body. Go to his office and retrieve him. The password is 'Licorice Wands.'"

As Harry ran as fast as he could to the seventh floor and to Dumbledore's office, he thought of the Basilisk's voice, Parish's lifeless body, and how Snape had, thankfully, believed him. When he was knocking on Dumledore's door, he realized he could barely remember running there. It was as if he had been in a daydream the whole time. He heard Dumbledore tell him to come in from the other side.

Just as he had done down in the Dungeons, Harry burst through the door, making his way to Dumbledore's desk. "Professor…Parish is dead…on the fifth floor… Snape is there…I went to get him…I saw the whole thing…he was staring at something…then fell…I accidentally stepped on his wand…it was an accident…he's…" Harry just broke off. He was out of breath, but tried to explain what had just happened, although he knew he wasn't making much sense.

Dumbledore stood up. "I'll be back. Take a seat, Harry." He motioned to a chair. Harry watched as Dumbledore walked out of the office in hurry.

Harry sat down in the chair. He realized he still had the Conglomerate Stone in his hand. Looking at the Stone then at the room around him, he decided to assign a stone, settling on blue. "_Albus Dumbledore's Office!_" When the stone had turned a cobalt color, he out it safely inside his pocket. Harry then leaned forward to put his arms on Dumbledore's desk, resting the side of his face on the top of his forearms. He had a feeling Dumbledore was going to take a while.

After some staring at nothing in particular, as he thought about Parish, Harry couldn't help but close his eyes and before long he drifted off to sleep unwillingly…

------------------------

A warm hand on Harry's shoulder shook him as he heard someone say his name. Harry looked up to see Dumbledore beside him. McGonagall and Snape were also in the room, looking grave.

"Albus, the other students must be notified of this. The school may no longer be safe. When the Minstry of Magic finds out about this, they might close down the school," said Professor McGonagall. She was upset, anyone could tell that. Obviously, she loved Hogwarts and its students.

"Close down Hogwarts?" asked Harry, shocked. "They wouldn't close down Hogwarts, would they, Professor?"

"I'm afraid they would. Once the Minister of Magic hears of this, we will have a hard time keeping the school open," said Dumbledore. "I just hope we can keep the school open until the end of the year, but with the Chamber of Secrets open, I am afraid that might be too long. "

"A death like this occurred fifty years ago, didn't it, Albus?" asked McGonagall. She eyed Harry, wondering whether or not she should be talking about this in front of him, but she continued on. "Myrtle."

"Yes, it was Myrtle. A wretched thing to happen to a student, and now a professor. We will have to tell his wife," said Dumbledore. He turned to McGonagall. "Minerva, send a letter to Parish's family. I am sure they will have a place they would like to bury him." She nodded and headed out the door.

Harry watched as Dumbledore went to sit behind his desk. He sighed after sitting down slowly. "Severus, you may sit." Dumbledore placed the tips of his fingers together.

Snape sat in the armchair next to Harry, who noticed that his greasy-haired professor seemed uncomfortable.

"Harry, I'd like to know how you came about seeing Professor Parish's death," said Dumbledore, grimly. Harry noticed that he too seemed unconfortable, but he hid it better than Snape. He saw a glimpse of unease in Dumbledore's eyes, but it only lasted a second.

It took about a minute for Harry to tell Dumbledore and the listening Snape everything that happened, minus the part about him hearing a voice. He wasn't sure if he should tell Dumbledore and Snape about it.

"I see," said Dumbledore. He looked from his desk to Harry. "I am sorry you had to witness what you did, Harry. I think now it would be best if you got some sleep."

Harry nodded before getting up and exiting the room. He took out his Conglomerate Stone, touching the green stone. He was brought instantly to the common room, which was empty.

As he stood there, looking at the faint fire in the fireplace, an overwhelming feeling of unease and sorrow took over him. A lump in Harry's throat appeared and he couldn't help, but begin to tear. The reality had finally hit him that what he had witnessed had been death — Professor Oliver Parish was dead. The kind, funny teacher he had known all year was gone.

His legs couldn't hold him anymore, so Harry sat on the couch, facing the fireplace. As a few tears rolled down his face, he stared at the cackling flames.

Eventually, he fell asleep as the tears began to dry.

-----------------------

"Harry, wake up!"

"What? What's wrong?" he asked quickly, immediately sitting up, his eyes wide.

"Calm down. Nothing's wrong," said Draco. "It's just that class is going to start in ten minutes. You might want to change and get your books. You fell asleep here."

Students were exiting the common room with bags over their shoulders. They were going to their first class of the day, looking like nothing had happened.

"Does…does everyone know?" Harry asked, standing up.

His question was answered by Draco's uncertain face. "Know what?"

"Parish is dead."

"He…he is?"

"The Basilisk killed him," said Harry, grimly, nodding slowly. "I saw it happen." He told the story of what had occured yesterday evening. As he did, Draco's jaw slowly began to drop.

"You're serious? Parish is dead?" Draco asked. "This better not be some sick joke."

"I'm not joking, Draco. I wouldn't joke about that," Harry said seriously.

"I can't believe he's dead." After a moment, Draco added, "Well, something else happened today, too."

"What?"

"That oaf Hagrid is back. A few first years saw him in the Entrance Hall. Said so at breakfast."

"So you were at breakfast?"

"Yeah, why?" Draco asked.

"Was Dumbledore there?"

"No," said Draco. "Actually…none of the teachers were."

--------------------------

Word had gotten around about Professor Parish's death. Eventually, everyone knew that their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had perished from Slytherin's monster.

By mid-morning on Wednesday, storm clouds covered the gray sky and a downpour of rain began. The grounds outside were muddy and the Black Lake looked like it was on the verge of overflowing. Inside, it seemed as if the whole school could only speak in whispers. Despite the pounding rain against the windows, things seemed quieter and more solemn with the knowledge of a death lingering around, and much darker since the Heir of Slytherin's influence was still eminent.

The whisperings only got more ominous when it shifted to the fact that the school might be shut down. During Potions that afternoon, Dean Thomas asked Snape what was going to happen to the school. Snape's response was, "Professor Dumbledore is handling the situation." In the next class, History of Magic, Thomas asked again, but Binns' response was the same as Snape's.

Nothing changed on Thursday as the heavy rain continued. But everyone was wondering what was going on with Dumbledore. No one had seen him since dinner on Tuesday night.

After Charms finished, Harry went into the common room with Draco and Blaise. He dropped his bag on the ground near a table, about to sit down. Higgs and a bunch of other students were standing near the notice board, talking quickly.

So instead of plopping into the nearest chair, Harry went to see what the parchment said. As he read the announcement in his mind, Draco, who was standing beside him, read it out loud. "Everyone must be in the Great Hall at six o'clock pm tonight. Professor Dumbledore is going to speak with the entire school."

After reading the ill-omened notice, Harry and Draco turned to each other, knowing that whatever Dumbledore said would not bode well for the school of Hogwarts.

**A/N:** Yep, Parish is dead. If you look back, you'll see all the little clues. The most notable one is his name. Parish, or perish. The first clue in the story was in the first chapter. In the store, he was holding up a small statue of a raven, which is a symbol of death. Also, when Draco's quill went flying, it almost hit Parish in the head. Lastly, Parish's birthday (Nov. 1st) is the Day of the Dead, and orange and black monarch butterflies, which are the supposed carriers of the souls of the dead, flew out of the envelope.

So tell me what you think about the chapter! I really want to know! Did you think it was good or bad or mediocre? Anything at all. Thanks!

* * *

**Preview of Chapter 40– His Body Will Lie In the Chamber:**  
Hogwarts is going to be shut down, but before that happens, Harry writes to Tom one last time… 


	40. His Body Will Lie In The Chamber

"I always say, keep a diary, and some day it'll keep you."

-Mae West

**40**

**His Body Will Lie In The Chamber**

His bag lay beside him on the ground. Harry knew he should be doing homework, but he couldn't help but feel as if it didn't matter anymore. He knew he had no idea what Dumbledore was going to say, but knew deep down that the school was indeed going to close.

He was slightly pleased to see that the other Slytherins in the common room were not doing any work either. Were they worried the school was closing? Did they care that it was? He didn't know, but at the moment, he didn't particularly care what they were thinking.

Harry sat uncomfortably in his seat, leaning back slightly as he stared at the stone ceiling. Six o'clock was drawing exceptionally nearer, but if he could he would stop time entirely. He would stay in this moment as long as he could. Because getting up would mean hearing that the school might be closing.

Alas, the time came when they had to hear what Dumbledore was going to say. Harry got up slowly, not ready, with Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott. He found it very hard to make his feet walk towards the Great Hall.

Upon walking in, it seemed like any other dinner at Hogwarts in the Great Hall; all the students were talking as they waited for their food. The only difference was the solemn-ness of the teachers, as they sat, watching the students quietly.

At the Staff table sat Dumbledore, whom no one had seen in a few days. Harry noticed that he looked faintly worn-out. The lines of his face were much clearer in the candlelight and his light blue eyes drooped only slightly, but the twinkle that his eyes usually held seemed to have been extinguished.

After every seat had been filled, Filch, who had been standing at the entrance, closed the doors. Dumbledore simply stood up and the room quieted down. All eyes were now upon him.

"I have an announcement to make," said Dumbledore grimly. He gazed around the room slowly. "Because of recent events, regarding the late Professor Parish and the relentless Heir of Slytherin, Hogwarts School must be closed."

All the rumors were now justified.

An eerie silence fell across the room and the whole student body seemed to gasp at the same time. Some students, mostly girls, started tearing and others looked at the floor, not wanting to face the depressing fact.

"The Minister of Magic and I cannot allow any of you to stay in the castle, and risk any of you being seriously harmed or worse. So, tomorrow at eleven o'clock in the morning, you will all be on your way home for good," said Dumbledore as he looked around the room sadly. "I would just like to say, I am honored to have been your headmaster for this long. I wish you all the best in the future. I am devastated to say that this is our last meal at Hogwarts. Let's make it the best."

Dumbledore waved his arms slowly. The marvelous Hogwarts food appeared before them all, but Harry wasn't very hungry any more. He actually felt sick to his stomach. He didn't want to leave Hogwarts. It was his home. Harry couldn't go back to living with the Dursley's. He just couldn't.

After the food appeared, Harry turned to see Dumbledore sitting at the High table, looking disheartened. His headmaster didn't seem to want to eat anything either, for his plate was empty. His arms were in his lap as he stared at his plate. A small tear, glistening in the candlelight, ran slowly down Dumbledore's face.

The other teachers weren't eating also. Professor Sprout seemed to be sobbing slightly, and she was holding a handkerchief. Professor McGonagall was beside Sprout, trying to comfort her, but McGonagall herself looked on the verge of tears.

Sitting, gloomily, at the end of the table was Hagrid, who must have been allowed to come back because the attack had taken place while he hadn't been around. He seemed almost mad at the prospect of having to leave. But as Harry watched his large friend, his face slowly changed and tears streamed from his face. Flitwick, who was sitting beside Hagrid, patted his arm.

Even Snape, Harry saw, was downcast, looking like someone close to him had died. Filch, holding Mrs. Norris, had moved to stand near the High table. His face looked grim, probably because if there were no more students, he would have no one to punish.

Only a few students in the Great Hall were eating, but they didn't eat much. There was almost complete and utter silence; it was as if no one were really in the room. Beside Harry, Draco was staring at his empty plate. Draco always said that he disliked Hogwarts and Dumbledore, but it was all talk. Harry really knew that Hogwarts for Draco was a place to get away from Malfoy Manor and his parents.

Ten minutes into sitting there, Harry couldn't take the cold and tense silence, so he got up. A couple of students turned to look at him as he did. By the time he had reached the door, most people were watching him leave. But he didn't care.

Harry would much rather spend his last night at Hogwarts in his dormitory, rather than in a silent Great Hall. So he walked down to the Dungeons. "Remaneo," Harry said to the stonewall, which instantly slid open.

He took a couple steps, but then stopped as he looked around the abundant green room. Everything he saw: the comfortable couches, the tables at which he did his homework, the fireplace that he liked staring into when he was thinking; he would miss it all. Harry stopped mid-way on the stairs, realizing that that was where the tunnels were. He would miss the times when he would be able to creep through the tunnels to Dumbledore's office and to the Library.

The engraved snakes on the walls seemed to be watching him as he made his way to the dormitory. It was so quiet around Harry that he even tried to soften his footsteps. When he closed the door, it sounded like he had slammed it, even though he hadn't.

Harry knew he could pack along with the others later, so he didn't want to bother doing it then. He wasn't sure why, but he felt he had to tell Tom that the school was closing, even though he hadn't spoken to him in almost two weeks and knew he didn't really trust Tom anymore. Harry opened his trunk and took out the diary before jumping up onto his bed, his feet hanging over the side. After grabbing his quill and inkbottle, he began to write. But his writing was scratchy and even more unorganized than usual.

_"Hello, Tom." _

Good evening, Harry.

"No, it's not a good evening. Despite the fact that I don't trust you anymore because I've been doing plenty of thinking, I thought I would tell you that Dumbledore just made an announcement to the school. The school will be closing because of the attacks and the death of Parish. Tomorrow, everyone will be on the Hogwarts Express, going home for good."

I did not know Dumbledore would actually do such a thing. I am truly sorry that Hogwarts must be shut down.

"Hogwarts is my home, Tom. It's the only place where I truly feel at ease. Tomorrow, I will be on my way to the Dursley's. I'll never see this school again."

I understand, Harry. More than you know. Hogwarts, too, had been my home. Fifty years ago, Headmaster Dippet said the school might close if the attacks did not stop. Luckily, they did because if they had not, I would have gone back to Stonewall Orphanage. I did not want to go back to being surrounded by Muggles. I wanted to continue to learn at the greatest wizarding school in the wizarding world. I know what your going through.

"But this time the school really is closing down! I will be going home. I'm not going to be thinking of what've happened if I went home. I'm going to be at the Dursley's for years!" 

The words were so real to Harry. He had to stop writing for a moment to breath. All these worries were slowly overwhelming him, but he didn't want to face them. He didn't want to face that fact that, after tomorrow, he would never see Hogwarts again.

_"I know that it's you who made that happen! I don't know how you did it, but you did!"_

_Calm down, Harry. I do not know what you are talking about. I did not do anything. _

"Don't lie, Tom! I know it's you! I don't know if you're the heir, although you must be, but I know that you're the one who Petrified all those Muggle-borns and killed Parish. You can't lie to me anymore. I know that I'm not the Heir of Slytherin, I know that I'm not going crazy, and I know that it wasn't Hagrid who killed Myrtle fifty years ago. How did you do it all?"

You do not trust me anymore, Harry? That is a shame. For I still trust you. I trust that you will help me.

"I won't help you with anything!"

We'll see about that, wrote Tom. The words faded away before fresh words appeared, _There's something I would like you to do for me…_

And then it all changed.

_Stow it away…in your pocket…keep it safe…walk…_he walked up the steps…_quicker…_his pace quickened…the wall slid away…familiar faces peered at him questioningly…_don't answer…_he walked away…more steps to go up…no one around…silence…then voices…he stopped and waited…they died away…he entered the large room…there were no people…_go to the back…_a wall before him…a clear, blank wall…_grab it from the table…cut…_he felt pain…there was blood…_deeper…_more pain…more blood…it dripped slowly onto the floor…_write the words…_

-----------------------

The professors gathered in the Great Hall. Emotions one can't even describe were written on all their faces; grief, shock…and fear.

Dumbledore's melancholy manner seemed to be crushed into despair and horror. He stared ahead at the wall, not quite knowing what to do. The Chamber of Secrets couldn't be found by anyone other person than the Heir of Slytherin, and therefore seemed unreachable. For once, Dumbledore felt lost. He truly didn't know what to do. The bleak future he had had at the feast, now collapsed before him into nothing.

McGonagall stood next to Dumbledore, but she couldn't bring herself to look at the wall and its gleaming words. Her eyes were transfixed at the floor; her strict nature had left her in one sweeping moment. She shook her head slightly as she tried to think of a solution, but nothing came to mind.

Sprout, Binns, and Flitwick stood further back, as they had mixtures of shock and fear on their faces. Trelawney stood furthest in the back, her grief-stricken, magnified eyes, stared at the wall.

Snape stood to the right of Trelawney, but further toward the wall. An almost blank look was on his face, but even he couldn't deny the fact that the whole situation was horrible. Nothing like this should happen at Hogwarts. In the pit of his stomach, though he tried to deny it, there was panic.

Heavy footsteps sounded from outside the room, and then the Great Hall doors opened. No one turned; Dumbledore waited for the reaction, he knew, would be coming. The sound of his strides slowed with each step. They all knew Hagrid was reading the crimson words.

Eventually, Hagrid stopped walking as she stared ahead at the wall. His eyes were opened in shock and he was clearly upset. Tears began to stream down his face and his nose began to run.

"NO! NOT HARRY!" Hagrid bellowed. "Not Harry!"

Hagrid's gaze dropped to the floor as he reminisced about the boy he had come to cherish as a friend. He couldn't seem to control his body any more, and he fell to his knees.

The floor trembled slightly as Hagrid's knees collided with the ground and they all felt the shudder run through them.

**

HARRY POTTER'S BODY WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER

**

FOREVER. NO LONGER WILL HE BE THE SAVIOR OF A

WORLD THAT NEVER UNDERSTOOD HIM. NO LONGER

WILL HE BE THE BOY WHO LIVED.

-------------------------

Harry appeared to have awoken from another blackout. There was a moment of confusion and then he seemed to wake up to the world around him. But he was bewildered once more when he realized he was lying on a very cold, damp floor…

A/N: I hope you liked the very melancholy chapter. Remaneo to remain behind — Latin.

* * *

**Preview of Chapter 40–The Truth of Tom:** Harry finds himself in the Chamber of Secrets with a Basilisk and Tom Riddle… 


	41. The Truth of Tom

"Play the game for more than you can afford to lose... only then will you learn the game."

-Winston Churchill

**41**

**The Truth of Tom**

The ground beneath him was cold and damp. Harry could feel its chilliness through his robe and on the back of his neck as he lay there. For some reason unknown to him, his body ached in different places and he felt very weak.

Harry sat up slowly, and then put his palms to the ground in an attempt to help himself up from the ground. His arms trembled slightly as he pushed against the ground, and eventually he stood up, his legs also shaking.

The room around him was exceptionally dim, but he could clearly see that the room was lined with statues of large snakes and there were two pillars with to the ceiling with engraved snakes. A colossal stone statue stood at the end of the room of the ancient and shrewd-eyed Salazar Slytherin, whose mouth hung open eerily.

He was in the Chamber of Secrets.

As Harry stood there, trying to regain his strength, he heard a faint hissing sound. He knew it was the Basilisk, so he took out his wand. His green eyes darted around, seeking Slytherin's monster.

The gliding of the snake could be heard against the stone floor. Then he could have sworn he heard a voice speaking Parseltongue, but he didn't know from where. His eyes looked about alertly for a person, but he found no one.

Out of nowhere, a gigantic snake slithered out of the shadow. The Basilisk lunged at him. Its mouth was wide open, showing two large fangs that were dripping with saliva.

Harry barely had time to get out of its way. Somehow he did, practically jumping away from the large snake. He turned and saw the snake was still coming after him, and he began to run. His feet hit the stone floor loudly, echoing off the walls. Harry gripped his wand tightly as he tried to think of spells to stop the Basilisk.

The snake was still pursuing him, but after he felt he had run a safe enough distance, he stopped, aiming his wand at the large serpent. He hoped this helped. "_Impedimenta!_" Harry yelled.

The Basilisk's head turned away as it stopped in its tracks. The spell had in fact done nothing to prevent the snake from further coming after him because it just immediately began to follow him once more. Harry began to run again, trying to come up with another spell he could use.

As Harry thought, he unintentionally slowed down because when he looked over his shoulder, he saw the serpent right behind. He sidestepped quickly to the right, just avoiding the Basilisk as it made a snap for him. He landed hard against the dank wall, but then ran toward Slytherin's statue.

Harry was breathing heavily and as he ran it felt as though his energy was slowly being leached from him. But he had to keep running, he had to keep going.

Pointing his wand over his shoulder, he yelled, "_Impedimenta!_" once more. When he saw the snake stop, he too stopped in his tracks, turning to face the Basilisk. "_Incarcerous!_" Thick ropes flew from Harry's wand, wrapping themselves around the gigantic snake.

The Basilisk struggled against the ropes. As it did, Harry let his wand hand drop to his side as he paused.

But the break only lasted a moment since the snake managed to release its self from the ropes grasp. What had Harry expected? Deep down he had known the snake wouldn't remain tied up for long.

The Basilisk lunged at Harry once more, this time grabbing part of his robes. The snake pulled at Harry roughly, and he fell to the ground, landing hard on his side. As he was dragged sideways, he turned onto his back, trying to rip his robes from the snake's mouth. He continued to pull, breathily heavily, knowing that if he didn't get free, he would be dead in less than a minute.

The black threads stretched and frayed, but wouldn't break. Harry tried as hard as could to release himself from the Basilisk, which was still pulling him along the floor. His heart began to pound faster as he wiggled on the floor, trying to get free.

That's when he realized his wand was still in his right hand. Harry pointed the tip of his wand quickly at the end of his robe. "_Diffindo!_"

The threads broke, Harry pulled what was left of his robes towards him, and ran, going into a nearby tunnel. When he got in to see it nearly pitch-black, he stopped for a moment. But when he heard the Basilisk coming, he ran into the darkness, keeping his left hand against the cold wall as he continued on.

Harry turned into another tunnel and then stopped, resting his back against the wall. He held his wand close to him as he tried to control his breathing. He didn't want the snake to hear him. He already had a spell in mind and knew exactly how he was going to use it.

The Basilisk crept closer, moving slowly in the dark. When Harry felt it was close enough, he ran out from his hiding place, pointing his wand immediately at the snake's eyes. "_Incendio!_" Hot flames burst from his wand, shooting out at the Basilisk's face and eyes. The snake seemed to cry out in pain before slithering away.

Harry, still holding his wand tightly, exhaled audibly. He knew the Basilisk would come back for him, but at least he had a moment to regain himself. It gave him a moment to also think of more spells to use against Slytherin's monster.

Slowly, Harry walked out of the tunnel. In the larger room, the snake was nowhere to be found. He could faintly hear a whispering, but didn't know where it was coming from. Was there someone else in the room?

Harry didn't get much time to think about it.

A searing pain formed in his left leg as two fangs dug themselves slowly into his flesh. Harry let out a scream. The pain was so excruciating that his eyes began to tear at the sides. He could actually feel the color draining from his face. And then the Basilisk pulled one fang out of his leg with a blood-curdling sound, leaving one remaining imbedded in his skin.

Harry let himself fall sideways, landing on his right side, his right palm on the cold ground. He kept his left leg as straight as he could. The Basilisk fang was sticking out of his leg, so he reached over with his left hand. He held it for a moment, turning away slightly, before pulling it out. As he let the fang drop to the floor beside his wounded leg, he let out a pained groan.

When he looked back at his leg, he could see the blood seeping profusely out of the wounds since there were two holes in his trousers, which were quickly becoming discolored from the large amounts of blood.

The pain was becoming almost unbearable. Harry could feel the poison from the Basilisk's fangs running through the veins in his left leg. Not only that, but his energy was draining from him rapidly.

As Harry half-sit, half-lay on the icy floor, he could hear the Basilisk slithering around near him. He didn't know why it wasn't coming after him at a point where he was so defenseless. Maybe it was waiting for him to die.

Despite the fact that Harry didn't want to die, he knew that if he didn't get up and do something soon, he would.

But he couldn't help but think that if he did die, he wouldn't be able to recover his relationship with Professor Dumbledore. He didn't want Dumbledore thinking that he had died a person destined for horrible things because of what had shown in the Mirror of Erised. He wanted Dumbledore to remember him as someone who should be remembered.

But that wouldn't matter if he didn't get up. With all the strength he had left, Harry pushed himself up from the floor, still holding his wand. He wished he knew a spell for a bandage, but he had never read or learned about one. Then he remembered that he had used a spell to heal on Halloween.

"_Episkey!_" Harry muttered, his wand tip on his leg. But nothing happened. At first he thought it was because he was so weak, so he tried once more, but when still nothing happened, he knew it was because of the Basilisk's venom. Limping, he dragged himself over to a wall, so he would have something to lean against.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw something bright red fly into the room, and a very sweet but eerie song was sounding throughout the large room. He looked up to see Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, circle the room, his wings open. There was something else though in Fawkes' mouth. It was black, but he couldn't see what yet.

Then Fawkes flew down, landing in front of Harry, stopping his song. In his mouth was the old, tattered Sorting Hat. The brilliant red and gold bird dropped the hat to the floor, and then looked up at Harry with wide eyes.

Harry picked up the hat and examined it, but there was nothing to help him. It was just a hat. He looked back at the phoenix before him. What did he expect Harry to do with it? How was this going to help him in any way? How was this going to defend him?

Thinking of nothing else to do he put it on his head, but still nothing happened, so he took it off and let if fall to the ground. Suddenly, he heard a muffled, highly annoying sound coming from the hat. He picked it up from the tip to see a dark orange rooster. Fawkes turned and stared at it curiously, as did Harry.

Then he remembered. The crowing of a rooster was fatal to the Basilisk. Harry looked around the room, but the large serpent was nowhere in sight.

"_Come on out, Basilisk,_" Harry said in Parseltongue. He hadn't planned on speaking in the strange language, but it came out that way. "_I know you're out there somewhere._"

The large, slithering serpent came out of the tunnel. It obviously couldn't see with burnt eyes, which were red and scabbed. It went toward Harry, who tapped his foot against the floor so it knew where he was. The rooster was silent at the moment, but, as the large snake drew closer, the animal let out a small boast and the Basilisk stopped in its tracks. Then, the rooster crowed loudly, repeatedly.

The Basilisk emitted an earsplitting cry before letting its head fall heavily to the ground with a loud thud. Its long body became limp. Slytherin's monster was dead.

Harry leaned back against the wall, letting out a long, drawn out breath. He closed his eyes for a moment, wanting to block out what had happened, his loss of energy, and the searing pain in his leg.

The rooster was still crowing noisily, so Harry pointed his wand at it. "_Silencio!_" Fawkes looked at him as if he had done something wrong. "What? You can't tell me you don't think the sound is irritating," Harry said to the phoenix as he picked up the Sorting Hat. "By the way, thanks for bringing this." Fawkes brought his head down as if saying "Your welcome," and then flew off, but Harry knew he hadn't gone far.

Since he was alone, Harry attempted to walk as he kept one hand on the wall, but almost fell. He let out a groan, clenching his teeth against the pain. But he tried again, finally being able to walk, although with a limp. He grabbed the hat with his left hand, making his way forward. He wasn't sure how he was going to get out of the chamber.

Most importantly, he had no idea where Tom Riddle was.

But as he limped onward, he didn't have to wonder anymore. Out of the shadow came a tall, lean sixteen-year-old with dark hair and darker eyes. Tom looked exactly as he did from the memory of fifty years ago. His face was thin, as were his fingers, which were holding a long, thin wand.

Harry stopped immediately at seeing the boy. He dropped the Sorting Hat to the floor, holding onto his wand firmly. Tom moved gracefully toward him, keeping his dark eyes, unyieldingly, upon Harry, who stared back.

"Good evening, Harry," said Tom callously. "I'm pleased you joined me tonight."

"Good evening, Tom," Harry said simply. If Tom wanted to play the game, then he would play the game.

"Just so you know, Harry, it was a pleasure speaking with you the entire year. I learned so much about you, and by learning about you, I learned a lot about myself," said Tom. He gave small, almost forced laugh. "I could not have picked a more _appropriate_ person whose soul to take. You would never think that two people, whose lives collided so much, could come together any more, but, alas, they have. This is where our lives collide once more, Harry. But I'm not sorry to say that it will be the last time."

"This is the first time I've met you, Tom," Harry said. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Actually, this isn't," Tom replied, his eyes still on Harry. "You have met me twice already in your past…but _my_ future."

With his long wand he began to write out green words that hung in mid-air.

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

Tom waved his right hand over the words and the letters shifted, moving themselves into different places. They now spelled out an entirely new phrase.

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

Harry's eyes widened. His gaze turned upon Tom quickly, who was now being shown in an entirely new light. Actually, he was being shown in darkness, complete and utter darkness.

Harry couldn't believe it. His friend was…Lord Voldemort? The boy standing before him would become the greatest dark wizard of all time? "You're…you're…?"

"Lord Voldemort? Precisely," said Tom. "I created the name whilst I was attending Hogwarts. As you know, I grew up in a Muggle orphanage, but my mother, who died, was a witch. My father, the Muggle he was, had the name Tom. I did not want, no, _I could not have_, the same name as my Muggle father. So I decided to make myself a new name — something people would one day cower away from in fear.

"And I must say it worked very well from what you have told me. Although, I don't know how _you_, a mere baby at the time, could not be killed by _me_. It's too bad you have no idea how either, or why I wanted to kill you in the first place."

"You're evil, that's why!" Harry exclaimed.

"I would not kill people simply because people think I am evil. I have reasons, Harry. You're intelligent, you can understand reasoning," said Tom. "Despite the fact I know my future self did want you dead, you might find it interesting to know that _I_, sixteen-year-old Tom, would not kill you."

Harry glanced at him curiously. Voldemort wanted him dead, but Tom Riddle did not? That didn't match. Was it just another part of Tom's game?

"Why would I not want to kill you?" Tom asked, as if reading his mind. "I find you very interesting, Harry. I told you before that I think you and I are very alike. We both grew up with Muggles, we are both half-bloods, we both speak Parseltongue, the two of us are also Slytherins, we are both interested in the Dark Arts, and we even look alike. The only problem is…your life ends tonight."

"I thought you said you wouldn't want to kill me," said Harry, taken aback.

"That's true. Only, I need your soul to become whole," said Tom. "And that means your life must end."

"Not if I have a say in this," said Harry. "This is not the last night I live, Tom."

"If only that were true," said Tom, sarcastically, his dark eyes looking over Harry. "But, you see, you're already dying as we speak. You have been throughout the year. As we have been talking, as you told me all your secrets, you have been pouring your soul into me. And I have been pouring my soul into you.

"You never even knew. Recently, of course, you became suspicious of me, which I had not been expecting. You thought I was the one making you blackout, making you kill the roosters, making you write all the messages on the wall. Well, Harry…you were right. It was I making you do all those things."

"You're the Heir of Slytherin, aren't you?" Harry asked. His leg still ached horribly, but there was nothing he could do as he stood there, listening to Tom.

"I thought this would come up sooner. Yes, I am the Heir of Slytherin," said Tom. "In my fifth year, I opened the Chamber of Secrets, letting students become Petrified and eventually letting a young girl die. None of the teachers thought it was me, how could they? I was a brilliant but poor student–"

"So you blamed it on Hagrid?" Harry asked, slightly offended.

"He was an easy target. Everyone thought it was he when I caught him in the Dungeons. The only person who didn't was Professor Dumbledore," Tom replied, a sort of disgust on his face. "Dumbledore seemed to think Hagrid was innocent and kept a very close watch on me. I knew I wouldn't be able to open the Chamber until much later, so I kept a part of myself inside the dairy, waiting for someone to come along and write to me. And it worked. You came along and poured your soul into me. That's how I'm here, Harry. _You are the reason I am here._"

"You can't blame the fact that you Petrified all those people and killed Parish on me! I didn't do any of that, not really! You did it all, Tom! It was you!" Harry tried to yell, but all the came out were exasperations. His energy was leaving him a lot quicker now and he couldn't stand anymore. His legs gave out beneath him. He fell to the ground, landing on his right side, but his left leg ached considerably.

Harry let out a small groan as he fell, but then looked back at Tom. His ghostly form, Harry realized, was slowly becoming more opaque. Tom was draining Harry's energy, keeping it for himself.

"You should know," Harry said, "that Mandrake Draught is being made and everyone will be healed and back to normal very soon. You didn't kill every Muggle-born in the school. You didn't succeed in completing what Salazar Slytherin desired for."

"I don't care about killing Muggle-borns off anymore. My new goal is to become a whole being," Tom said as he took a few steps forward. "Think about it: with two Lord Voldemort's the world will do as we say on bended knee. We will be unstoppable. We will have control over all of the Wizarding world."

As Harry sat there, his left leg slightly extended as he clutched his wand in his right hand, he thought about what Tom had said. There can't be two Voldemort's. The Wizarding world would go into a Dark Age. People would never come out of their homes out of fear that they might be the next one killed.

Besides stopping Tom from becoming another Dark Lord, Harry had to stop Tom from killing him. This would not be his last night alive. His mind raced as he thought of what to do. One thing he was sure of was that whatever he was going to do needed to be done quickly.

**A/N:** Hmm…why did Sara (blackink) change what Tom wanted? Why did she change it from Tom wanting to kill Harry to wanting to be a whole person? Has she gone completely insane? Possibly, but that's not what I'm going to talk about. The reason I changed it was because during the year, Tom saw that he and Harry were very similar and from the chapter you can see that Tom actually grew fond of Harry, despite the fact that his future self wanted to kill him. Tom realized that Harry is also into the Dark Arts, so I decided to tweak it slightly. Also, the fact that Voldemort's young self didn't want to kill Harry may come into play much later. Reviews are much appreciated! Thanks!

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**Preview of Chapter 42–A Riddle or Two:** Harry barely manages to escape the Chamber with his life; he then has a long discussion with Dumbledore about his similarities to Tom Riddle… 


	42. A Riddle or Two

"We plan our lives according to a dream that came to us in our childhood, and we find that life alters our plains. And yet, at the end, from a rare height we also see that our dream was our fate. It's just that providence had other ideas as to how we would get there. Destiny plans a different route, or turns the dream around, as if it were a riddle, and fulfills the dream in ways we couldn't have expected."

--Ben Okri

**42**

**A Riddle or Two**

Harry had to stop Tom from killing him. This would not be his last night alive. His mind raced as he thought of what he could do. One thing he was sure of was that whatever he was going to do needed to be done quickly.

"What do you really plan to accomplish as Voldemort? What do you really want?" Harry asked, trying to create conversation as he thought of what to do.

" 'What do I really want?' There are plenty of things that I want…but it's what I _need_ that matters."

"Then what do you need?"

"Right now, I need you to die," Tom said. He then gave an incredulous laugh. "Do you really think I'm going to tell you what I need, Harry? I'm not actually like the boy in your little diary."

The word "diary" triggered Harry's memory. Where was Riddle's diary? Trying to be inconspicuous, he reached into his right pocket. The dairy was there, but he couldn't take it out yet, just in case Tom saw it.

He glanced to the right. The Basilisk fang was still near the wall. The only problem was getting over there. But he desperately needed that fang. Tom was still apart of his diary, so if Harry ruined it, he sure that he would ruin Tom.

But maybe he didn't have to go over to the fang, maybe it could come to him.

"I know you're not. Voldemort isn't an innocent boy…and neither are you," Harry replied. "And it's not my diary, _it's yours_."

Harry slipped the diary out of his pocket, letting it rest on the ground in front of him. He then pointed his wand at the fang. "_Accio fang!_" Since he didn't have a lot of energy, the fang slid across the floor, instead of flying over.

Tom opened his mouth to speak, but stopped. He took a couple of steps forward, alarmed, knowing what was coming next.

Harry took hold of the dairy with his left hand as he placed his wand on the ground with his right. Quickly, he grabbed the fang from the floor, jabbing it straight into the cover of the diary. Ink gushed from where the fang had been planted. The black liquid leaked all over the floor, dripped onto his hands, and spewed onto his ripped robes.

A loud, almost screeching scream came from Tom Riddle. But then he was suddenly no more. He was gone. The place where his ghostly body had been was bare.

Harry was so relieved that he released his grip on the fang, but still clutched the diary. He lay back on the cold ground, staring at the stone ceiling. He may have gotten the soul Tom had taken from him back, but he was still very weak. The wounds from the Basilisk were still there, and Harry knew that by then the venom had already run its course through his veins.

The old stones were becoming jumbled. Harry's vision was starting to fail and he was becoming exceptionally dizzy. The fact that he wasn't standing was good because he would have fallen.

A beautiful but melancholy song echoed throughout the large chamber. Harry saw the blur of something vivid red. He heard it land softly beside him. He turned his head to see Fawkes' hazy and unclear body. Harry smiled faintly at the stunning phoenix.

Fawkes moved closer to Harry's awkwardly bent left leg. Harry could faintly recognize the fact that the phoenix was starting to tear. Did that mean he was dying? Did Fawkes know something he didn't? Was there no chance for him now?

The warm, gentle tears fell onto Harry's wounds. After a couple of seconds without change, the excruciating, stinging pain began to disappear, his strength was recovering, his vision was improving, and he could actually feel the venom from the Basilisk's fangs retreating within his body. Fawkes looked at him once more.

"Thank you, Fawkes," Harry whispered before blackness began to tug at the corner of his vision.

Despite the fact he was feeling healthier, he still fell unconscious. His mind and body had undergone such an incredible amount of stress in so short a time that made his vision become overwhelmed by darkness.

Harry could swear he was laying on a warm, comfortable sheet with a soft blanket covering him and a fluffy pillow beneath his head, but knew that was impossible. He could also swear he could hear the soothing voice of Professor Dumbledore, but knew that was also impossible because he was in the Chamber of Secrets.

But then it all came flooding back. Fawkes had healed his wounds, and he remembered slowly getting healthier. He just barely remembered being carried above the ground by Fawkes as if weightless, but he had thought that was a dream.

Now he realized that it hadn't been. Harry really was in the Hospital Wing, safe and sound. He opened his eyes to see the dim Hospital Wing; it was still night. The white curtains were closed around his bed, and he could see shadowy figures on the other side. It was Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey from what he could hear.

"–to be administered to them as soon as the sun rises, Poppy," Dumbledore said calmly. "No delays. The faster the students are back to normal, the better."

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore, of course," Madam Pomfrey responded. Her footsteps sounded as she walked away from Dumbledore and Harry's curtained area.

The headmaster's almost inaudible footsteps were drawing nearer. A graceful hand moved the curtain away to reveal a very tired-looking Dumbledore. The light may have been dim, but there was no mistaking the more noticeable lines on Dumbledore's face. He obviously hadn't slept the whole night, and Harry doubted he had slept any of the recent nights preceding the school's closing. Luckily, the school would be able to remain open.

"Ah, I see you are awake," Dumbledore said, a small smile on his face. He took a few more steps before sitting at the edge of Harry's bed. Harry sat up, reaching for his glasses, and saw another object on his bedside table — Riddle's diary.

As Harry put his glasses on, he said, "It's still here?"

"When Fawkes brought you to the Hospital Wing, you were still holding onto it," said Dumbledore. "Madam Pomfrey also washed your hands and face, you had ink and blood all over them. I think you should tell me how you came to acquire this diary and what happened down in the Chamber."

"I don't know how I got it, Professor. I really don't," Harry said. "I was in my dormitory when I found it among my books in September." As Dumbledore nodded, he proceeded to tell the story of what occurred in the Chamber with the Basilisk and Tom.

About fifteen minutes later, when he finished the story, Harry asked, "How did Fawkes know I needed help? Did you send him, Professor?"

"No, I did not. I wasn't in my office the entire evening," said Dumbledore. "Fawkes went to you because you showed true loyalty to me. You called him on your own, Harry. Something you did, said, or thought summoned him to help you."

Harry nodded, understanding. He had shown Dumbledore loyalty by thinking that he wanted to better his bond with his headmaster. It had been strong enough to beckon Fawkes to him. "Without Fawkes, I don't think I would have made it out. The Basilisk was vicious."

"Riddle can be even more vicious," Dumbledore said.

"Professor, Riddle told me that he took a part of himself and put it into the diary to ensure that he wouldn't die. Is that true? Can someone really do that?"

"Yes, someone can do that. It is a gruesome process, but it can be done," Dumbledore explained. "During the process, the person's soul becomes split. One part leaves them and the other remains. But it is not a process you would want to undergo, Harry. Besides the fact it is extremely painful, no one's soul should be split. It is unnatural. Someone would only do it to, like you said, make sure he or she remained alive, but that would be the only reason."

"The process must take a long time if its so painful," Harry said, slightly wincing at the thought.

"I do not know anyone or have ever seen anyone go through it, but I've heard it only takes a couple of seconds to complete," said Dumbledore. "But I would imagine splitting your soul, despite the short time, would be quite unbearable to endure."

"Err…Professor, what does someone do in order to split their soul?"

"Let's just leave the conversation of one's soul at a standstill, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "It's much too callous of a topic to talk about after the ordeal you went through with Riddle."

Harry nodded, thinking of something else to discuss with his headmaster. "Professor, I know Riddle should've seemed more cruel, but the thing is, he wasn't," Harry said. "Riddle didn't even want to kill me, despite the fact he knew Voldemort wants me dead. He said the only reason he was going to kill me was because he needed my soul to become a whole being. He also said…he said we were alike."

"It is true. The two of you are very alike, in a couple of ways. The two of you speak Parseltongue, you are both in Slytherin, and there are some inner qualities, too, that are similar: strong determination, intelligence, and craftiness," said Dumbledore. "But do you know why you are alike?" Harry shook his head. "The night Voldemort tried to kill you, he ended up giving some of his powers to you. Unintentionally, I would assume. That is why you have the ability to speak to snakes."

"But that's not the reason why I'm in Slytherin though," Harry said, somewhat troubled. "The first night I was here, the Sorting Hat said that I would do well in both Gryffindor and Slytherin. But I never said no to being in Slytherin. I just went along with what the Sorting Hat said."

"It was your choice to say no to the Sorting Hat if you wanted to, but since you chose not to, you were placed in Slytherin," Dumbledore said calmly. "It's our choices that define us, Harry. What you choose to do will define who you are."

"So I'll end up like Tom Riddle?"

"Not if you make the right choices," his headmaster said, looking at him with light blue eyes. "Riddle made the wrong choices, according to me, and ended up becoming a very dark wizard, but if you follow your own path, then you will remain the good person you are."

Harry nodded, giving Dumbledore a small smile. "But, Professor, what about the other things Riddle said. We both grew up with Muggles and are both half-bloods."

"Merely coincidence. Nothing else."

There was a moment of silence as Harry processed what Dumbledore said. "So I'm a Slytherin because of the choice I made. I made a different choice than my parents."

"Your parents might not have had the choice. It might've only been you," Dumbledore replied. "Though you did have the possibility of being in the same House as your parents, like I said last year, I think you're in Slytherin for a reason."

Harry, however, doubted that since he saw no reason for why he would be.

Once Dumbledore left., Harry put his glasses back on the side table next to the diary and went so sleep for the rest of the night.

Bright light spilled into the room through the half a dozen wide windows. They weren't open, but the air was pleasantly warm. There was a soothing silence in the room that made Harry want to go back to sleep.

He turned over onto his right side, bringing the blanket closer to him as he stared ahead. On the side table next to him were his glasses, a vial of potion, and a glass of water. Harry turned back onto his back, thinking nothing of it…but then realized Riddle's diary was gone.

As he sat up suddenly, he looked back at the table to make sure he really hadn't seen it. And he hadn't. It was gone. But realization hit him as he grasped the fact that it had been Dumbledore that had taken it. He didn't know why Dumbledore would need it — it's not like anyone did since it was useless now — but he supposed Dumbledore had a reason.

The white curtain slid away with a slicing sound of metal on metal. Madam Pomfrey came toward him, carrying his folded clothes and his shoes. She set it down at the end of the bed.

"Are you feeling all right?" Madam Pomfrey asked. "No pain in your left leg?"

"I feel great. No pain at all," Harry replied.

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "The wounds on your leg will need a few more days to heal completely. To make sure there is no scarring, rub some of that potion," she said as she pointed to the vial on the side table, "on them before you go to bed for the next five days. Once your dressed, you may leave. I think there's some breakfast left in the Great Hall."

"Thank you," Harry said as he got out of bed. He put his glasses on to check the time. It was fifteen minutes after eleven. There wouldn't be much breakfast down the in the Great Hall by now, but he got dressed and left, putting the vial in his robe pocket.

Since it was just a couple days shy of June, it was exceptionally warm outside. No one would be inside the Great Hall when he went in. Everyone would be outside, practicing Quidditch, playing Chess, doing work, or even just basking in the sunlight.

But Harry was wrong.

After opening the massive doors and taking a few steps, he found every teacher and student inside. They all turned when he walked in and immediately began applauding. Harry, not expecting such an act, stopped in his tracks. He looked around the room as the students started to stand.

At the Gryffindor table, he could see Hermione with a bright smile on her face. She winked at him quickly, knowing that she had helped him find out what Slytherin's monster was. Ron was standing beside her, a wide smile on his face. Across from him was Colin Creevey, who was taking numerous pictures excitedly. At the Hufflepuff table, Justin Finch-Fletchley was clapping. Penelope Clearwater was also clapping from the Ravenclaw table, but she was smiling at Percy Weasley. Terry Boot was further down the table with a smile on his face.

The only person who didn't look happy at being reawaken was Miles Bletchley. He gave Harry a gloomy look before staring at his plate. All the seats closest to him were empty. Harry couldn't help but pity him, but there was nothing he could do to change how the other Slytherins felt.

Harry looked at the Staff table to see, standing at the end, Hagrid, who was wiping away tears. Dumbledore stood up, a twinkle in his eyes and a soft smile on his face, and walked toward Harry. In his hands was a large, golden trophy.

When Dumbledore was standing before him, the clapping subsided, he handed Harry the trophy that gleamed brightly in the sunlight. Harry looked at it with awe, seeing his name shining back at him in gold. It was smooth and refreshingly cold to the touch. "This is for me?"

"It is because of you that the school is allowed to remain open," said Dumbledore. "If you had not done what you did, if you had not risked yourself, the school would be closing for good. Everyone in this room would be on the Hogwarts Express at the moment, returning home permanently. For battling the Basilisk, the school and I reward you with this trophy."

Harry smiled widely as he said, "Thank you."

As Dumbledore put a hand on Harry's shoulder, he nodded his head toward the door, indicating that they needed to speak in private. Harry followed Dumbledore into the Entrance Hall, still holding the trophy. He could still hear the students applauding him.

**A/N:** There is talk of Horcruxes for a reason, which I'm sure you all know. I just thought I'd bring it up sooner than expected. But Harry's too young to really know what they are, the process, or what they're really called. Hope you liked the chapter! Only two more to go!

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**Preview of Chapter 43–Teach You A Lesson:** After talking to Dumbledore, Harry finds out why Mr. Malfoy gave him the diary… 


	43. Teach You A Lesson

"The difference between school and life? In school, you're taught a lesson and then given a test. In life, you're given a test that teaches you a lesson."  
--Tom Bodett

**43**

**Teach You A Lesson**

"Please sit, Harry," Dumbledore muttered as he sat behind his desk. "You can put the trophy on the floor for now. It will later be brought to the Trophy room for everyone to admire."

Harry placed the large trophy upon the ground before sitting in one of the armchairs. When he looked at Dumbledore's desk, he saw Riddle's diary near some sheets of parchment and a bottle of dark blue ink.

"Professor, you're sure Riddle's diary no longer contains his memory?" Harry wondered.

"I am sure. It is nothing, but a simple diary. I examined myself it to make sure."

"About the diary, Professor," Harry mumbled, looking at the floor. "I didn't know Riddle was evil, and I didn't know he was using me, and I definitely didn't know he would try to kill me. I would have stopped writing to him instantly if I knew."

"Do not think too much on it, Harry," Dumbledore instructed warmly. "I know you would have stopped if you knew. Riddle always had a way of persuading people into thinking he was something he was not. He managed to persuade you, but do not feel ashamed about it; he has persuaded men a lot older than you."

"Riddle didn't persuade _you_. You saw through his act."

"I don't know if he told you this, but I was the one who went to Stonewall Orphanage to give him his letter from Hogwarts," divulged Dumbledore. "I told him about the school and what he truly was. At first, he thought I was joking, but I showed him a small trick, and he instantly found there was no joke involved. Riddle did not have the best childhood, Harry, which is why he was not quick to trust me.

"A few months later, he came to Hogwarts and was a pristine student. The other teachers loved him since he was highly intelligent and very charming. But I knew what he was really like. The day we met, he had not been faking his reaction and I was the only one to see him for what he truly was. For him, coming to Hogwarts must have been a way to remake himself and to start-a-new."

Dumbledore's hands interlocked as he looked at Harry. "You can understand that, Harry. I know your aunt, uncle, and cousin did not treat you right, but coming here you were allowed to begin again. That is what Riddle did. And he found that his bloodline reached to Salazar Slytherin. Quite a change for a boy who thought he was a Muggle. In his fifth year, he opened the Chamber of Secrets, knowing he was the Heir of Slytherin."

"If you knew, couldn't you have stopped him?" Harry asked.

"There was no substantial proof it was he, Harry, and, unfortunately, I could not bring him to Headmaster Dippet with just my incentive of what he was."

"I understand. But I can't believe you just sat back and watched. That would've driven me mad."

"Indeed, it did," Dumbledore agreed. "But I did not just sit back and watch, Harry. No one knows me to do such a thing. I did my best to prevent Riddle from Petrifying other students. I gave him as many detentions as I thought I could manage to give without being suspicious. At the end of the year, when Riddle said it had been Hagrid, I knew, without a doubt, that it was not. But Dippet believed undoubtedly that it was. In the end, I managed to persuade Dippet into keeping Hagrid here. I did not want Hagrid to feel as though the school had abandoned him."

Harry nodded in understanding. Dumbledore had been so kind to Hagrid by letting him stay at Hogwarts, so Hagrid returned the favor by having enormous amounts of loyalty to Dumbledore. "So that's why Hagrid speaks so highly of you."

Dumbledore smiled. "Well, tell him–"

Someone knocked on the door twice. "Come in," Dumbledore called, his smile fading. It was as if he knew who it was. Harry turned to look at the door as it opened.

Mr. Malfoy strode into the room, his long black cane in hand. Edging in behind him was Dobby, who was wringing his hands nervously; he was still dressed in a stain-covered pillowcase. Mr. Malfoy stopped when he was before Dumbledore's desk.

"Hello, Lucius," Dumbledore stated casually.

"Hello, Dumbledore. Hello, Harry," Mr. Malfoy said, turning to each of them consecutively.

"Why are you here?" Dumbledore speculated. "Certainly, you did not come here to see me out of the castle once again. I would think the governors would be pleased to know the attacks have been stopped, and the culprit caught."

"The Heir of Slytherin was caught?" Mr. Malfoy hissed. "Who was it?"

Dumbledore picked up the diary. "Lord Voldemort." Harry saw Mr. Malfoy wince at the name. "He used this diary to open the Chamber and attack the students. He was also using Harry to do so."

Mr. Malfoy glanced at Harry with gray eyes. "I see."

Something caught Harry's attention. He looked behind Mr. Malfoy at Dobby, who was pointing furiously at the diary, then at Mr. Malfoy, and then at Harry, who only looked back with narrowed eyes. He mouthed the word, "What?" Dobby did it again; he pointed at the diary, at Mr. Malfoy, and finally at Harry. Dobby then began to hit himself hard on the head.

It clicked in Harry's mind was Dobby was trying to tell him. It had been Mr. Malfoy who had given him the diary.

"It is good Harry survived being in the Chamber," reasoned Dumbledore, "because we all would have assumed it had been he who had done all those things to the Muggle-borns. Imagine, the Boy Who Lived wanting to kill Muggle-borns at Hogwarts, the school he treasures as a home. Now that Riddle's memories are gone from the diary, the school is safe once more."

"How promising," Mr. Malfoy said sarcastically.

"I think it would be beneficial to both you and the school if you no longer gave away any of Voldemort's old items," Dumbledore commanded.

"You…?"

"Yes, I know it was you, Lucius. I know you gave Harry Riddle's old diary," Dumbledore dictated, looking directly at Mr. Malfoy. "If I find anything more of Voldemort's items have made their way into the school, I will personally escort you into the Ministry, where I hope someone will accompany you to Azkaban."

Mr. Malfoy stood there, looking maliciously at Dumbledore. He then turned on his heel and headed for the door. "Move it, Dobby!" Mr. Malfoy walked hastily out of the room, Dobby following right behind him.

Harry watched as they left, and then looked back at Dumbledore. "How did you know it had been Mr. Malfoy?"

"I have my reasons for knowing," Dumbledore stated. "Go enjoy the rest of your day, Harry."

Harry nodded. "Have a good day, Professor." He walked out quickly to catch up with Mr. Malfoy. Just as Mr. Malfoy was walking toward the sixth floor steps, Harry caught up with him, panting slightly.

"Mr. Malfoy!" The blond-haired man turned to look at him, as did Dobby. "I want to know why you gave me that diary!" Harry exclaimed, defensive.

"You really want to know, Harry?" Mr. Malfoy queried, almost teasingly. Harry nodded. "That day at Flourish and Blotts in the summer, I caught you speaking with the Weasley boy and that Mudblood. You stood up for _them_ against my son, Harry. You needed to be taught a lesson on who should be _respected._"

Harry's mouth practically dropped at hearing that. "Are you bloody serious?" he blurted, not caring that he was cursing in front of Mr. Malfoy. "You gave me that diary — _with Voldemort's soul in it!_ — because you thought I had to be taught a lesson? I almost _died_ because of that thing!" When he finished, he was breathing even heavier.

"I never would have given it to you if I had known you would come so close to death, Harry," Mr. Malfoy explained, truthfully. "Believe me."

Harry just stared at the man before him for a moment, but then nodded.

"I hope to see you at Malfoy Manor this summer," Mr. Malfoy said. Harry only nodded, and then watched as Mr. Malfoy, followed by Dobby, walked away. Dobby turned to look at him before they turned a corner and were no longer visible.

When Harry walked into the common room, Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle came over to him. They immediately wanted to know what happened in the Chamber of Secrets, so he sat on one of the couches as the others crowded around him. As he proceeded to retell the story, more and more Slytherins joined the circle.

After he had finished, Adrian Pucey proclaimed, "Wow! You fought a Basilisk and survived?"

Someone else in the crowd announced, "He fought You-Know-Who!"

Eventually, Harry was left alone with his friends. Of course, the other Slytherins had bombarded him with tons of questions first.

Later that evening, Harry and Draco decided to celebrate the fact that Hogwarts was staying open by going to Hogsmeade. So Harry hurried downstairs to get his Invisibility Cloak.

As he opened the door to his dormitory, he stopped. He could have sworn he heard someone crying. He went toward the lavatory, which was the last door on the left side of the corridor. Harry pressed his ear against the door and listened. He could hear muffled sobs coming from the other side. He knocked on the door. "Hello? Are you okay?"

After a couple of seconds, the door opened. Miles Bletchley opened the door only slightly to peer through. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was red. He looked terrible, and Harry knew why.

"What do you want, Potter?" Bletchley questioned.

"I just want to know if you're all right?" Harry asked the third-year.

"Yeah, I'm just perfect," Bletchley responded sarcastically. "Now leave me the hell alone." He started to close the door, but Harry put his foot between the door and the frame, so Bletchley couldn't close it.

"You shouldn't be so down, Bletchley," Harry advised, taking his foot away.

The door swung open. Bletchley stood in the doorway, looking half-angry, half-upset. "Shouldn't be down? I have no more friends, Potter! No one will talk to me! Everyone knows I'm a Mudblood now! My years at Hogwarts are ruined!"

"I'm talking to you, and there are other Slytherins that will, too," Harry encouraged. "Not all the Slytherins are as evil as you think, Bletchley. I don't think Flint will be your friend anymore, but Higgs and Pucey will. Just give them some time."

Bletchley nodded. He came out of the room, closing the door behind him. Harry took a few steps toward his dormitory and started opening the door.

"Everyone said you were a good person, Potter, but now I know it's the truth," Bletchley complimented before walking up the stairs to the common room.

Harry grabbed his Invisibility Cloak and met Draco in the corridor outside the common room. Since they had gone to Hogsmeade once before, they knew the way and it didn't take as long to get there. The two of them stayed at the Three Broomsticks, drinking Butterbeers and talking to Madam Rosmerta, until close to midnight.

The next day was just as beautiful and sunlit as the day before. Harry woke up late on the Sunday morning, feeling refreshed. He climbed out of bed to see that his friends were still asleep. But he got dressed anyway and went upstairs, holding his Nimbus 2000. He decided that after breakfast he would go practice since he knew he wouldn't be able to during the summer, seeing as he would be with the Dursley's.

As he got to the Entrance Hall, he heard voices and someone crying. Harry walked slowly, not wanting to intrude on what was going on. He went into the hall to see Dumbledore speaking to a thin, sandy-haired young woman. The woman, who looked to be about twenty-five, was wiping away tears.

Harry noticed her gaze continually glancing at the moving pictures on the walls and the floating candles in the next room, and observe that she was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and jeans. It was apparent that she was a Muggle. Being in Hogwarts must be slightly distressing.

Standing near them was a little girl of five, who was dressed in a little blue dress with small dark blue shoes. The little girl had light brown curls, freckles, and bright blue eyes, just like he had seen in the picture on Parish's desk. She was holding, securely, onto a brown teddy bear as she looked at the floor.

As Harry walked toward the Great Hall, the little girl looked up at him. She saw the broom and her eyes widened, a small smile appeared on her face. She headed for Harry.

"What's your name?" Harry asked, as he bent down to be closer to her height.

"Hannah," the little girl replied. "What's yours?"

"Harry."

"Can I see that?" Hannah inquired, looking at the broom as Harry held it.

Harry turned the broom horizontally, resting it on his bent knee. She put her left hand on the polished wood of the broom, bringing her hand down to the bristles at the end. "My daddy told me about this. It's called a broom, right?"

"Yeah, I fly around on it," explained Harry. After a pause, he added, "You want to see something brilliant?" Hannah nodded her head, vigorously, as she clutched her bear. Harry took out his wand, pointing it at his left hand. "_Orchideous!_ He had read about the spell in the little book from Hermione.

Bright yellow flowers appeared out of the tip of Harry's wand, so he took them with his left hand. "Here you go," Harry muttered. He held the small bundle of flowers out to Hannah, who took them happily.

"Thanks, Harry!" Hannah exclaimed enthusiastically. She said it loud enough to catch the attention of Dumbledore and Mrs. Parish. The two adults were smiling at them; Dumbledore much more so than Hannah's mother, who was still tearing.

Harry stood up, holding his wand, as he looked at Dumbledore. Hannah ran over to her mother. "Look, Mum! That boy gave me flowers! They came out of nowhere!"

"That's very nice, sweetie," Mrs. Parish observed, trying to be enthusiastic for her daughter. "Thank you," she said to Harry.

Dumbledore gave him an approving nod as Harry walked, quietly, into the Great Hall. Harry saw that Ron and Hermione were eating at the Gryffindor table with Neville Longbottom. He went over to them and as he got closer, the three Gryffindors looked up to see he was approaching.

"Harry!" exclaimed Hermione with a small smile. Ron, his mouth full of pancakes, blurted, "Hey, Harry." Longbottom merely gave him a nod.

"I heard some details of what you did a few days ago in the Chamber," said Hermione. "After I was provided with the Mandrake potion, I overheard Dumbledore speaking to McGonagall. I can't believe you battled a Basilisk and–"

"Fought against young You-Know You!" shouted Ron. "Blimey, Harry. I'm starting to wonder if you have a death wish."

"I don't have a death wish, Ron. Trouble just seems to find _me_," Harry reminded. Still standing, he asked, "Can I sit down?" Ron and Hermione nodded.

"Well, though fighting the Basilisk and You-Know-Who was very brave of you, it was unbelievably stupid, too," Hermione snapped, looking slightly distressed. "I mean, how could you trust a boy in a diary?"

"You heard about that then?" Harry inquired.

"Yeah, we heard, mate," Ron mentioned. "Mum always told me to never trust anything if you can't see where it keeps its brain."

As Harry looked from the slightly dismayed Hermione to the smiling Ron to the nervous Longbottom, he added, "I'll remember that from now on."

**A/N:** Check my profile page for the summary of the third installment! I think you'll be pleasantly suprised!

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**Preview of Chapter 44–A Due Paid Back:**  
Alas, the year comes to an end…  



	44. A Due Paid Back

"A memory lasts forever, never does it die. True friends stay together and never say goodbye."

-Anonymous

**44**

**A Due Paid Back**

Harry walked into the Great Hall for breakfast in mid-June to see the students, their sleeves rolled up and ties undone, talking excitedly. Not knowing why, he quickly shuffled over to the Slytherin table to sit next to Bletchley and Pucey.

"What's going on?" Harry inquired.

"You don't know?" Pucey asked, his eyes wide as he smiled largely. "Dumbledore cancelled all the exams!"

"Brilliant!" Harry exclaimed in happiness. Now he could relax at Hogwarts without having to worry about studying.

"It seems, he's the happiest of us all that the school didn't close," Bletchley remarked, smiling also.

"Well, he should be," said Pucey. "He's our headmaster."

Those two weeks since the Basilisk had been killed, Miles Bletchley had slowly regained the friendship of Higgs and Pucey. Harry had been checking up on him from afar to make sure he was all right. In some ways, it had been his fault that Bletchley was now called the "Slytherin Mudblood" behind his back and to his face, since Riddle had made him open the Chamber. Harry just wanted to know he had paid his due back.

When Draco and Blaise arrived, he told them the exuberant news about the exams, or rather lack of them. His friends were ecstatic and afterwards eating breakfast, they decided to practice Quidditch. Draco and Blaise borrowed the old school brooms, too happy to care that they weren't necessarily functional.

But later that evening, Draco's merriment ended when he got a letter from his father.

"They can't do that to _my_ father!" Draco said loudly, aghast.

Harry and Blaise walked over to him to see what was wrong. "What is it?" Blaise asked.

"My father's no longer a school governor," Draco sputtered with distaste, still holding the parchment. "Apparently, there was some miscommunication between him and the other governors about what should be done concerning Dumbledore and the Chamber of Secrets. And since he had a more offensive approach to the situation, they sacked him."

Harry and Blaise exchanged glances, not knowing how to react. They said they were sorry about what happened, but it didn't really help. Draco was in a slump for a few days about it, but managed to get over it.

On the last evening of Hogwarts, all the staff and students gathered in the Great Hall for the end-of-the-year feast. Excited but sullen murmurs filled the room, knowing that tomorrow they would have to leave for the summer. Harry was just pleased he wouldn't have to leave for good.

Harry looked up to see half a dozen black cloths with the Hogwarts "H" hanging among the wooden beams above. It was clear that Gryffindor was going to win because they hadn't lost a considerable amount of points this year. Must have been because most of the students Petrified had been Gryffindors. Coming up behind them, point-wise, were the Hufflepuffs and then the Ravenclaws. Slytherins, with a substantial loss of points, were last, but if they had just gotten ninety more points, they would be in the lead.

Headmaster Dumbledore stood at the Head table. The room instantly quieted, as students looked his way with smiles. "Let me start by saying that this has been one of the toughest years Hogwarts has undergone, but we have all persisted through the Chamber of Secrets ordeal and come out on top." Dumbledore glanced around the room. "However, regarding the points system, one House has obtained the top spot with their resilience and determination. So, because of recent events, I award Harry Potter one hundred points for defeating the Heir of Slytherin. The House Cup goes to…Slytherin House!"

The black banners above them changed to dark green with a large, curled snake pictured. Harry and the other Slytherins jumped from their seats, cheering and laughing and jeering in excitement. The rest of the Great Hall was quiet, looking at them with disdain for their win. The Slytherins quickly quieted and the attention was back at their headmaster.

"I'm pleased to say this is _not_ the last end-of-the-year feast. We will be enjoying many more to come." Dumbledore waved his slender hands and all the glasses slowly began to fill and he continued, "Now, please raise your glasses in a toast to a dear teacher and friend. To Oliver Parish!"

The entire room lifted their glasses in the air and exclaimed in unison, "To Oliver Parish!"

Dumbledore took a quick sip and then added, "Seeing as this is the last feast this school year…eat as much as you please!" He swayed his hands once again and food instantly appeared on the tables.

Murmur started once more as the students began to talk animatedly. The feast went well into the night; Harry, Draco, and Blaise would know since they had been one of the last groups of people to leave. It was a good thing they had decided to pack earlier that day because they knew they would want to sleep late the next morning.

And indeed they did. They woke up when the time was nearing ten o'clock. They got dressed right away, going up for a late breakfast. Immediately after, they were taken to the Hogwarts Express. Harry, Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle got a compartment to themselves. Just as Harry's watch ticked eleven o'clock, the train whistled loudly and took off without delay.

"What are you mates doing during the holiday?" Blaise asked as he closed the compartment door behind him.

"Me and my parents are going to visit my aunt in Scotland," grunted Goyle.

"Where in?" Blaise inquired, but Goyle just shrugged. "What about you, Malfoy?"

"Not going anywhere," Draco informed them. "I told my father not to make plans since Harry'll be staying over. My father said that we could take day trips to Diagon Alley. He's got a lenient schedule for work." Harry nodded, wanting to go straight to Malfoy Manor, but knew he couldn't.

"What about you, Blaise, where're you going?" Harry asked.

"My mum and I are going to Italy for the whole month of July," Blaise bragged excitedly.

"Never been there," Draco mumbled.

"We've been planning to go for months. My mum even sent me a book on Italian," Blaise said, taking out a pocket-sized book.

For a while, they made Blaise look up random words to call each other, like "cattivo" (bad), "brutto" (ugly), "debole" (weak), and "stupido" (stupid). Eventually, they decided to make the most of the last hours they would be allowed to do magic. Taking out their wands, they tried to disarm each other. Harry succeeded in disarming them much more than the others succeeded in disarming him, but it was all in good fun.

Inevitably, the train pulled into King's Cross station. It was on the verge of growing dark when the Hogwarts Express stopped. Harry, accompanied by the others, got off the train to collect their trunks.

As Harry walked through the wall to the Muggle world, he held tightly onto the handle of his trunk as he gripped Hedwig's cage with his other hand. Draco and Blaise followed, lugging their trunks unsteadily. Blaise instantly found his dark-haired, pretty mother, who was waiting for him off to the side, so he said his goodbye and left.

Draco also saw his father, his long hair falling down his back as he gripped his black cane. The man gave Harry a small nod, which he returned, uneasily, before saying, "See you later, Draco."

As he walked down the station toward the parking lot, he met Ron, Ginny, Fred, George, Percy, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. "Harry, dear!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed at seeing him. "How are you? Haven't seen you in months." She hugged him tightly.

"Let him breathe, Molly," Mr. Weasley voiced, as he put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Is your aunt and uncle coming to pick you up?"

"I think so," Harry assured. "They should–"

A man cleared his throat loudly behind Harry, who turned to see red-faced, overweight Uncle Vernon. Aunt Petunia and Dudley were standing a ways behind him, looking at the Weasley's like they were of a different species.

"I got to go," Harry mumbled. "I'll see you during the summer, Ron."

"See you, mate," Ron answered.

Harry walked, miserably, with the Dursley's away from the magical world. When he had walked a few steps, he looked over his shoulder to see the Weasley's already strolling away. Ginny turned, catching his eye. Ron looked back at him, giving him one last wave of farewell.

As they made their way to Uncle Vernon's car, storm clouds became more apparent in the sky. Aunt Petunia clutched her purse over her head, not wanting to get wet even though no raindrops came. Dudley opened the door quickly and stuffed himself into the car, taking out a large piece of toffee. Harry pulled open the door, still holding Hedwig's cage, as Uncle Vernon put his trunk in the back.

Not five minutes had passed, as the car pulled onto the street, when a tremendous downpour began.

Harry could tell already that it wasn't going to be a very pleasant summer.

**A/N:** So sad that we must part, but don't worry. I'll put up the first chapter to **A Different Road III: Friend or Foe** very soon. So look out for it! I just want to say thanks to all of you for continually reading and reviewing my story! Your comments, whether they're constructive criticism or praise, help me so much and I look forward to reading them! Thanks, guys! See you soon!

Sara


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